


Human

by RobotWendigo



Series: Human [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Abduction, Blood, Creampie, Crying, Cuddling, Desk Sex, Deviates From Canon, Disembowelment, Dismemberment, F/M, Female Reader, Game: Resident Evil 3 Remake (2020), Gore, Mates, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, POV Second Person, Porn With Plot, Protectiveness, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Tentacles, Teratophilia, Torture, Vaginal Sex, Weapons, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotWendigo/pseuds/RobotWendigo
Summary: Unarmed and alone, you are certain you are going to die here in the heart of Raccoon City, eaten alive by the zombie hordes. You have no idea how one fateful encounter is about to change everything, making you question what it really means to be human.
Relationships: Nemesis/Reader
Series: Human [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797358
Comments: 169
Kudos: 433





	1. The Creature

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to all you beautiful monsterfuckers out there. This is based on the 2020 remake of RE3. And good lord, please read the tags, some parts of this fic may get wild, and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. And if you’re all good with that, then I hope you enjoy! I plan to update every Wednesday and Sunday.

It is the end of the world, and being the logician that you are, you are positive that you are going to die.

You listen to the sounds of screams and gunshots outside as you cower behind the counter of the antique shop, clutching a small crank radio in your hands. The radio blares on about evacuation orders and containment efforts, but you can’t be bothered to listen to any of it. From what you’ve already heard, there is a viral outbreak turning people into zombies across the city, and that’s all you need to know to feel certain of your inevitable death. There is simply no getting around the fact that you are small, unarmed, and alone. You don’t stand a chance against the zombie hordes outside, and it is only a matter of time before one of them realizes you are huddled up in here and comes breaking through the window or the door.

With a deep sigh, you rummage around in the bag sitting on the floor beside you. When the outbreak first started, you had filled the bag with what little survival necessities you had immediate access to: a flashlight, a water bottle, and some snack bars. You pull out a snack bar and tear back the wrapper. You might as well enjoy one last meal before you die, even if it’s just a cheap processed bar of tasteless oats.

Before you can take a bite, however, you hear a thud coming from the front of the shop. The snack bar falls from your hands and to the floor. A feeling of absolute dread overcomes your entire body as the possibilities of what it could be race through your head. Shaking more than you would like to admit, you slowly peek out from behind the counter to see what caused the sudden noise. Silhouetted against the front door is a humanoid figure, hunched over and mangled. Its bony fingers scratch fruitlessly against the glass as it stares in your direction with clouded eyes. You dart your head back behind the counter, praying to whatever deities may be listening that the horrendous thing didn’t see you.

_CRASH!_

A scream escapes you at the sound of shattering glass, followed by a faint groan that emanates from the front of the shop. Looking back out from behind the counter, you see that the zombie has smashed through the glass front door. It shambles toward the counter, completely disregarding the broken glass digging into its bare feet.

You had previously thought that, when presented with death, you would go quietly. You hadn’t accounted for adrenaline. Without even processing what you are doing, you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder, then jump to your feet. With the best aim and strength you can muster, you chuck the crank radio at the zombie. Miraculously, you manage to hit it square in the face. The throw is too weak to do any damage, but it does disorient the horrendous creature long enough for you to jump over the counter and juke around the side of the shop toward the front door. You don’t even bother to open the door, simply opting to jump through the broken frame.

Now outside for the first time since the onset of this citywide apocalypse, you can finally take in the true extent of the chaos. Broken glass and abandoned vehicles litter the streets. Everywhere you look, something is on fire. The screams and gunfire are much clearer, along with the distant police sirens and the overhead sound of a few helicopters.

A groan resonates behind you, and you turn just in time to see the zombie from before reaching toward you. You swat its hand away before taking off down the street, thankful that you wore boots comfortable enough to run in. You have no idea where you are going or what you are going to do. All you know is that you want to be anywhere except here.

You continue down the street at top speed, fueled by your adrenaline. You once took comfort in the beauty of the city lights; now they just disorient you as you try to navigate through the night. In your disoriented haze, it takes you much too long to realize that the street you are on is a dead-end. You skid to a halt at the chain-link fence blocking your way, heart pumping out of your chest and lungs breathing so hard that it burns. You thread your fingers through the fence openings, exhaustion catching up to you. Looking around, you realize you have no idea where you are. You must have run at least several blocks, and now your stamina is shot.

Your stomach drops as you hear several groans and shuffling feet behind you. You do a 180 to meet the gaze of your hungry pursuers, and to your horror, there must be at least ten of them. There’s no way you can dodge around all of them to head back the way you came. Self-preservation instincts kicking in, you look around the area frantically for any method of escape. Your eyes fall on a dark and narrow alleyway, and without a second thought, you bolt toward the passageway in hopes of escape.

To your relief, you can see lights on the other end of the alley; a viable escape route. Your sprint gradually turns into a run, then a jog, then a clamber. Your legs are exhausted, and you can hardly breath from all this running. You silently pray that whatever is on the other end of this alley will allow you some form of respite.

You stop dead in your tracks as the street comes into clear view. What awaits you is most certainly not respite. Rather, there is a man… person… thing? It towers over its surroundings, standing at what must be at least eight feet tall. Clad in leather boots, leather gloves, and a leather coat, it stands with its back toward the alley, scanning the area. Despite the chaos and danger that permeates the city, it seems completely unperturbed.

A groan sounds from down the street, and you look to see a zombie staggering in the creature’s direction. The creature doesn’t even bother to look. The zombie continues to approach, arms outstretched in ravenous and mindless hunger. Still, the creature doesn’t react. As the zombie gets closer and closer, you begin to fear that maybe the creature is just unaware of its approach. You open your mouth to shout out a warning, but immediately choke back your voice when the creature suddenly turns toward the zombie and, with little care, dispatches it with a swift impaling through the face using a tentacle-like appendage extended from its right hand.

You don’t have much time to process what just happened before a chorus of groans echo down the alleyway. Turning around, you see that the zombies from the previous street have followed you into the alley in hungry pursuit. Your heart skips a beat when you come to the horrific realization that you are now stuck between a mob of zombies and a tentacled monster that just obliterated a zombie without a second thought.

Your head swivels back and forth, taking in your only two options. Eaten by zombies, or impaled? Neither option is particularly appealing. With a shudder, you accept your fate and decide to take the easiest way out. Being eaten alive sounds like a long and excruciating experience; perhaps an impaling will be quick and painless.

You step out of the alley, knees hardly able to support your body. You watch with dread as the creature turns slightly, clearly made aware of your presence. You close your eyes, anticipating the end. However, the end doesn’t come. After several moments have passed, you peek open an eye to see what is taking so long.

The creature has turned to face you, and your hands rush to your mouth to hold in a horrified scream. It has no skin from the nose down, revealing completely receded gums and exposed muscles. One side of its face is stapled over itself, rendering that eye useless if not completely missing. The other eye is cloudy and white, narrowed in a perpetual grimace.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, exchanging stares with this hideously mutilated abomination. What is it waiting for? Isn’t it going to kill you? To your surprise, it turns away from you and begins walking down the street, completely uninterested in your presence. You gawk after it, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you are still alive and, in fact, not impaled.

A groan snaps you back to reality. A glance over your shoulder reminds you that the zombies are still approaching. A thought plants itself in your mind; an insane thought, but a thought, nonetheless. No matter where you go, there will always be more running, more dead ends, more zombies. You know that you will eventually succumb to exhaustion or reach a true dead-end. Slowly but surely, the zombies will win, and you will die.

This gigantic creature, however, seems to have no interest in you. And as a bonus, it is capable and willing to dispatch any zombies that are stupid enough to wander too close. Perhaps, if you tag along with this creature, its presence will protect you from the zombies until the outbreak is brought under control or you find some way to escape the city.

You don’t have too much time to think about it, as you are acutely aware that the zombies are now flowing out of the alley and in your general direction. With a cautious energy in your gait, you head in the direction of the creature, quickly closing ground. You fall into step a few feet behind it, and it turns its head to glance at its new tagalong, but upon seeing you it loses any interest and returns its focus to the street ahead.

Now that you feel some semblance of safety, your heartrate and breathing start to calm. With this returning calm comes your returning rationality, and you decide to take a moment to analyze the situation. You are in the heart of Raccoon City, meaning that reaching the outskirts for evacuation is unlikely. Your best bet will be to survive in the city as long as possible until the outbreak is contained or you can be assisted with evacuation. As for the creature, you aren’t sure what to make of it. It has the physical structure of a human, aside from its massive size. Humans, however, distinctly lack tentacle appendages and mutilated faces. Upon further examination, you note that the creature also has a strange device on its chest that is attached to the back of its neck with a sturdy tube. It also appears to be searching for something by the way its single eye continuously scans the cityscape. Could it be alien? At this point, where the zombie apocalypse has become reality, nothing would surprise you.

You wonder if the creature knows how to speak and consider trying to strike up a conversation with it. It seems like a harmless idea, but your mind trips over itself trying to think of what to say. The last thing you want to do is make it mad by saying something stupid. After some more thought, you consider that an introduction would be a safe bet.

You clear your throat before you speak, your voice slightly raspy from the fair bit of screaming you have done today. “Uh, my name is (y/n). Do you have a name?”

The creature continues along its path, looking everywhere except at you. You are unsure if its lack of response is due to an inability to understand you, an inability to speak, or just a complete disregard for your existence.

“Ah, strong silent type.” You twist your hands together awkwardly, disappointed in the lack of engagement. You were hoping for some answers. You try to come up with something else to say, hoping that if you keep pushing it will eventually speak up. “I suppose you aren’t from around here like I am. I mean, I wasn’t born here. I was born out of state. But I moved here after my uncle passed away. I inherited an antique shop from him, see, and I thought it might be interesting to get out of my comfort zone a little bit.” You shrug. “It’s not the most glamorous job, but it pays the bills, and what else can you ask for? But you know, I’m not actually that fond of the city life. I’ve always dreamed of living in a little house in the mountains, maybe next to a small town. Man, that just sounds amazing. Maybe I should have moved to Stone Ville and just commuted into the city every day.”

You look up and examine the creature’s face for any sign of acknowledgement, but there is none to be found. You sigh. This is going to be a long, boring survival experience, isn’t it?

You tense at the faint sound of growling, causing you to look around frantically for approaching zombies. There are none to be found, however, and you start to relax. You must be hearing things.

Then you hear it again, and with a feeling of stupidity, realize that it originates from your own stomach. You remember dropping your snack bar in the antique shop before you could eat it to satiate your hunger. You sling forward your bag from over your shoulder and dig around until your hand meets another one of the snack bars you packed. With a clean tear, the wrapper is removed and stuffed back into your bag. You raise the bar to your mouth, eager to fill your stomach with some substance.

You pause, looking down at the snack bar in your hand, then up at the creature walking in front of you. All living things need food, right? Perhaps if you give it food, it will be persuaded to your usefulness and maybe even answer some of your questions. You increase the speed of your steps until you are right beside the creature. You reach the bar up toward it as an offering. Much to your shock, it bothers to glance in your direction, glaring at you with that single white eye.

“Uh, are you hungry?” you ask quietly, voice trembling. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

The creature comes to a halt and turns to face you. You feel all the blood drain from your face as it examines the food, then you, then the food again, as if trying to assess whether to accept your offer or just kill you on the spot for daring to make such a ridiculous proposition. After an excruciating amount of time, the creature lifts its hand toward yours and slowly takes the snack bar from your grip. It holds the bar in front of its face, turning it this way and that in what you could almost call curiosity.

“It’s, uh, food. You can eat it,” you explain, pointing at your mouth in case it doesn’t understand your words.

The creature watches you, then glares back at the food. You watch as the creature parts its teeth and tosses the whole snack bar into its mouth, not even bothering to chew before swallowing. You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relieved that things didn’t go horribly awry. The creature then turns its attention back to you, and you decide to take this opportunity to try conversing with it again.

“You ready to talk now?” you inquire.

“S.T.A.R.S.” the creature growls in a deep, menacing voice unlike anything you have ever heard. It sends a chill down your spine and makes your hairs stand on end.

“Uh, what… what does that mean?” you ask.

The creature doesn’t answer. Instead, it hunches over until it is eye level with you, an amazing feat considering that the thing is eight feet tall and you are the shortest person you know. It stops with its face just inches from yours, and you can feel its hot breath on your face. You can’t even bring yourself to blink as the creature’s single eye scans over your face, analyzing some unknown variable of your being. It takes a step back and extends its examination to the rest of your body, from the top of your head down to your feet and back up again. It seems to be contemplating something.

“Um… what are you do-“

Your voice cuts off with an abrupt squeak when the creature reaches out and grabs your arm. You know its massive hand could easily snap your bony arm like a twig if you were to recoil, so you simply freeze, hoping that if you stand still long enough it will eventually lose interest.

It does not lose interest. Instead, the creature lifts you up and throws you down next to a vehicle parked a few feet away. Trembling with confusion and fear, you scramble to your feet using the car as support. By the time you collect your bearings, the creature has closed the distance between itself and you. Its colossal figure looms over you as you lean back against the vehicle. You’ve always been small, but never have you felt so tiny, so insignificant, like a speck that can just be flicked away without a care.

When you had first learned of the zombie apocalypse taking place outside, you had told yourself that anything could happen. Anything could go wrong. You tried to mentally prepare yourself for anything and everything.

But you certainly didn’t prepare yourself for whatever the hell happened next.


	2. Exploration

You stare up at the creature looming above you, eyes as wide as dinner plates. You try to swallow nervously, but your mouth has gone completely dry. Never have you felt such fear, such uncertainty. You are convinced that this creature is going to kill you, and you just hope it will be quick and painless.

Something unfamiliar touches your shin just above your boots. You manage to tear your eyes away from the creature so that you can look down your leg. A fleshy pink tentacle has wrapped itself around your calf. You trace the length of the tentacle with your eyes to find it extending from the creature’s hand. What is it doing? Why doesn’t it just kill you and get it over with?

The tentacle slowly begins to venture onward, snaking up your leg and underneath your skirt. It passes your knees, then your thighs, and comes to rest at your hips. To your horror, it begins to slip past the hem of your underwear, creeping ever closer to the area between your legs. You come to the sudden realization that this thing doesn’t want to kill you. It wants to fuck you.

Panic overtakes any remaining sense of rationality as you dodge to the side in a desperate attempt to escape, completely forgetting that the tentacle is still loosely wrapped around your leg. It gets pulled taut, dragging your leg out from underneath you and sending you crashing face-first into the asphalt. Your ears ring from the impact, and you can feel a few drops of blood drip from your nostrils. You scramble up to your hands and knees, flipping yourself over to face your assaulter.

Every muscle in your body tenses when the creature’s massive hand reaches down and grabs you around the neck. It lifts you until your feet are left dangling inches from the ground, and your hands immediately rush up to claw at the creature’s strong grip, your lungs desperate for air. You attempt to kick at the creature by wildly swinging your legs, but your efforts are futile.

Unfazed by your feeble struggling, the creature slams you back against the side of the car, knocking the remaining breath out of you. It loosens its grip around your neck just barely enough for you to draw in a desperate gasp of oxygen, followed by a brief bout of coughing and spluttering. Now that you are firmly secured against the vehicle, the creature decides to continue with its exploration of your body. The tentacle, still wrapped around your leg, slips back into your underwear. You shut your eyes tight, bracing for whatever comes next.

The tentacle glides against your slit, causing you to flinch. Without warning, it dips between your folds, feeling up every inch of you. After a few moments of fruitless searching, the tip passes over your clit, and you let out a startled squeak at the sensation. Interest piqued by the vocalization, the creature repeats the motion. Sure enough, you let out another tiny sound of shock.

Seemingly satisfied by this instance of cause and effect, the creature continues to rub at the sensitive area, wavering at first but gradually gaining confidence. You seal your mouth shut, determined not to give this creature the satisfaction of hearing your voice. Sensing your defiance, the creature only stimulates you harder. Wetness pools out of you as your body begins to feel the biological effects of your involuntary arousal; you hate that your body is betraying you like this. Eventually you can’t take it any longer, and your mouth shoots open with a faint cry of pleasure. Blood rushes to your face in shame; you can’t believe you are letting this creature have its way with you, and to your personal pleasure, nonetheless.

The tentacle drifts away from your clit, and you unintentionally whine at the sudden removal of stimulation. This doesn’t last long, however, as the tentacle begins to explore further. It circles your entrance a few times, and now that you are wet with arousal, it slips easily inside. You gasp at the unique sensation. You aren’t inexperienced when it comes to sex, although it has been a few years since your last intimate relationship. You know what a dick feels like inside of you. This feels completely different; what the tentacle lacks in girth, it makes up for in dexterity. The strange appendage begins to massage your walls, searching for more places that will deliver the sweet sound of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for the tentacle to locate your sweet spot, causing you to squirm. Upon noticing your reaction, the creature presses harder against the new target, and you let out a satisfied moan. As the creature continues to tentacle-fuck you, the desperate thoughts of escape and death start to slip your mind, replaced by an animalistic desire for more. The inability to get away, the complete lack of control… at first it frightened you, as it rightfully should, but the more you think about it, the more you realize it is turning you on. You’d never experimented with bondage or power play in the bedroom. All your previous sexual encounters had been the definition of vanilla. You hate to admit it, but this creature is awakening something deep within you, and while part of you is disgusted by this revelation, a bigger part of you is enraptured with pure bliss and excitement.

The pressure of an oncoming orgasm begins to build up inside you, and your entire body quivers with anticipation. Then, just as you feel yourself about to peak, the pleasure abruptly stops. You feel the tentacle slowly withdraw from inside you, leaving you feeling empty and unsatisfied, and you whine quietly. It is now that you realize your eyes have been shut tight this entire time. You open them to determine why the creature has suddenly stopped.

You flinch back at the sight of the creature’s face, having forgotten just how grotesque it is. It is staring intently at you with its single eye, and you suddenly become self-conscious of the aroused facial expressions you must have been making for it. You also become acutely aware of the blood streaming down your face from your nose due to your earlier fall. You must be quite a sight to this thing just as much as it is a sight to you.

The tentacle gradually begins to unwind from around your leg. You watch curiously as it retreats from underneath your skirt and raises into the air, approaching your face. Much to your surprise, it wipes some of the blood coating your upper lip with an unanticipated gentleness. The creature brings the tentacle to its own face, closely examining the glistening scarlet liquid that now graces the tentacle’s tip with apparent curiosity. The creature quickly retracts the bloodied tentacle back into its hand, and you watch with intrigue as it disappears just as quickly as it had appeared.

With its hand now free of the tentacle extension, the creature reaches up underneath your skirt again. The feeling of its leather glove against your own skin is startling to say the least. Even more startling is when that hand reaches your waist and, with no effort at all, completely rips your underwear from your body, leaving your waist stinging slightly from the snapping of elastic. Goosebumps tickle across your skin as the cool night air comes into contact with your wetness. The creature tosses the ruined article of clothing to the side before reaching toward its own leather coat. It is now that you notice a significant bulge underneath the leather covering.

You realize what all the tentacle-fucking was for. It was to warm you up, to get you aroused and wet and pliable in this creature’s grasp, so it could easily fuck you for real.

You are filled with conflicting emotions. Firstly, the thought that this creature isn’t finished with you, that it can still bring you the release that you have been so cruelly denied, fills you with eagerness and arousal. Of course, this is immediately followed by a tormenting shame. This is fucked up. You know it is. You are being fucked against your will by some hardly human abomination, and you are loving every moment of it. Even if you survive this zombie apocalypse, you have no idea how you will ever be able to live this down.

However, the next few moments reassure you that you won’t have to bother worrying about living this down, because you are now most certain that you are going to die.

The creature pulls back the front of its coat, revealing the most insanely massive cock you have ever seen in your life, already erect and dripping precum. You don’t know what else you were expecting, considering that this creature is eight feet tall, but it still takes you by surprise. Certainly, that won’t fit inside your tiny body. And if it does, certainly it will kill you, ripping you apart from the inside until you bleed out in the most undignified death possible.

It’s the zombie apocalypse, and you are about to be fucked to death by a creature five times your size. What a way to go.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the creature grabs your thigh in its free hand and raises it up, providing easy access to what it desires. It closes the gap between your bodies, bringing the tip of its cock to rest against your exposed folds. A shudder ripples through your body; whether it is from anticipation or fear, you are uncertain. With a subtle movement of the hips, the creature slowly slips into your entrance, aided by the gratuitous amount of lubrication you have already produced.

You hold your breath as the creature continues its ingress into your body. The cock slides in further, and further, and further, stretching you beyond what you would have ever thought possible. It isn’t as painful as you had anticipated, but the stretch still aches considerably. Eventually the creature‘s cock stops its forward progress, and you glance down to assess the damage.

Much to your chagrin, the creature’s cock is barely halfway submerged inside you. You knew it wouldn’t all fit. You, for one, are prepared to accept this reality. The creature, unfortunately, is not. With a sudden thrust, the creature forces itself several more inches into you, and you grit your teeth from the subsequent ripple of pain throughout your lower abdomen. Still unsatisfied, the creature thrusts again, and with a low grunt of effort, completely sheaths itself in you until your hips are flush with each other. The tip of the cock is pushing your poor cervix to the extreme, and you let out an agonized scream.

Having sufficiently stretched you out to suit its needs, the creature begins to pull out, only to thrust back inside, then pull out, then thrust, letting out a low guttural growl as it does so. With each thrust comes a new bout of pain, and with each bout of pain comes another scream. Your fingernails dig into the creature’s hand still wrapped around your neck, and your jaws clench shut as you try to keep your senses under control. The creature continues its thrusting, gradually picking up speed as it gets more and more aroused.

You can’t imagine the pain will ever stop, but after a few minutes of thrusting and screaming, you start to feel yourself going numb to the agony, only for it to be replaced by the familiar feeling of pleasure. You wonder if you are truly feeling pleasure, or if your nerves have just started interpreting the pain as pleasure as a coping mechanism to prevent you from completely losing your mind. You decide it doesn’t matter. You are being fucked to death and you are going to enjoy it, damn it!

Your screams descend into moans, and you start to buck your hips in rhythm with the creature’s own movements. Seemingly encouraged by your sudden change in attitude, the creature starts to fuck you faster and harder, eliciting more moaning and bucking from your overstimulated body. The buildup of the orgasm you were previously denied begins to return, and you have a feeling the creature is getting close too based on its increasingly erratic movements.

With one last hard thrust, the creature buries its cock as deep as it can inside you. It throws back its head and lets out an earth-shaking roar as it climaxes, pumping your womb full of hot cum. The feeling of the fluid seeping into you is enough to send you over the edge; your eyes roll back and your vision goes white as your entire body convulses, your walls clenching around the creature’s cock as it continues to shoot its cum into you. You can’t recall ever orgasming this long and hard, and you struggle to maintain consciousness. You let out one last moan before your body relaxes, spots and stars spattering your returning sense of vision.

The creature finally pulls its cock out of you for good, followed by a flood of its fluids mixed with your own. It releases its grip on your thigh and your neck, dropping you back onto your feet. Knees too weak to support the sudden return of your own weight, you collapse to the floor, head lolling to the side in exhaustion. You watch as the creature readjusts its leather coat to cover the cock it just so gloriously violated you with.

You’re alive.

Scrambling to make sense of what just happened, you blurt out the first thought that comes to mind. “That was the best creampie I’ve ever had,” you mumble senselessly. You swear you can hear the creature chuckle under its breath.

It takes you a few more moments to completely come to your senses. You reach over and retrieve the tatters of your underwear. You can’t wear them anymore, obviously, but you can at least use them to clean yourself up a bit. You use the cloth to wipe up any cum that managed to get on your inner thighs, as well as the pool flowing from between your legs and accumulating on the asphalt. Finally feeling a bit more presentable, you push yourself up to your feet. An aching pain emanates from your thigh where the creature had held you. That is going to bruise for sure. You toss the soiled underwear to the side; looks like you’re going commando for a while.

You look back up at the creature, who is watching you calmly. If you weren’t mistaken, you would almost assume it was waiting for you. You also realize that you have been thinking of it as an “it” this entire time. After what you just experienced, perhaps “he” would be more accurate and respectable.

What should you do now? If you stay here, the zombies will catch and eat you without a doubt. But if you continue to follow the creature, you have no idea what will happen. He’s no longer ignoring your existence, that’s for sure. He fucked you without consent, for another thing. Do monsters even understand that concept? And you started to want it halfway through, and you were quite satisfied at the end, so what does that count as? And what the fuck is wrong with you to have led you to enjoy it in the first place? Have you always been kinky as shit? You’ve never had to think about the intricacies of sexual assault and your personal sexuality before, and it makes your head spin a little. Or maybe that’s just from the nosebleed.

With a sigh, you make up your mind. Staying here is a death sentence, and following the creature is only _maybe_ a death sentence. You’ll just have to take the lesser of two evils and hope for the best. And who knows, maybe you’ll get a good time out of it?

“So… where are you going now?” you ask.

The creature, of course, does not respond. He simply turns away and starts walking down the street in the direction he had been headed before he stopped for a fuck break. After a few steps, he pauses and looks back over his shoulder at you expectantly.

You laugh darkly at the notion. “You’re lucky I don’t have anything better to do than follow you around,” you tell the creature before jogging over to where he stands. He grunts in approval before continuing his trek down the street with you keeping pace by his side. You wonder in the pit of your stomach what the hell you just got yourself into.

You try to picture what the two of you might look like to a passing bystander; a giant monster of a man with a mutilated face and a penchant for wearing leather like a badass motherfucker, and a tiny woman who barely reaches his stomach in height, face covered in nose blood. The image in your head makes you feel a little bit badass yourself. The only thing that could make you feel more badass would be a weapon. Not that you need one, of course, considering that you have now acquired a personal anti-zombie bodyguard who just so happens to be down to fuck.

All things considered, perhaps surviving the zombie apocalypse won’t be so difficult after all.


	3. The Hunt

You aren’t sure how long you have been walking. An hour? Maybe two? You suppose it doesn’t really matter considering that you don’t have anything to be late for nor do you even have a known destination. You are simply following the creature wherever he goes, watching with satisfaction as he dispatches the occasional zombie that wanders too close to his human fuck toy.

You’ve tried to make sense of the creature’s behavior, but you are still mostly at a loss. The path he takes seems deliberate and calculated, and he still seems to be searching for something, but that is about the extent of what you can deduce.

The lack of conversation is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you can say pretty much anything you want without anyone arguing back or even telling you to shut up. On the other hand, you’ve discovered it is significantly difficult to maintain a one-sided conversation. You’ve already told this thing all about your life: family, friends, job, apartment, hobbies. You quickly run out of things to talk about and start to question whether your life is really that boring.

You consider attempting to eat another one of your snack bars, considering that both of your previous attempts were unsuccessful and that you are still hungry. Then you remember how the creature reacted to the last snack bar and quickly reconsider. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy yourself, but your whole body is still sore, and you don’t think you’ll survive another round. You’ll just have to eat some other time.

Walking several miles with a skirt and no underwear has been an interesting and new experience. Every time there is a breeze, it always manages to slip under your skirt and chill you to your core. You feel exposed and vulnerable, even though you know nothing would even be able to get close enough to harm you before getting impaled or dismembered or some other equally horrific action.

Lost in thought, you hardly notice when the creature stops mid-step. He stands alert, as if listening for something only he can hear. You come to a halt beside him, looking around for any potential threats.

“Uh… is something wrong?” you ask, not expecting a response.

“S.T.A.R.S.”

There’s that word again, just as low and threatening as the first time he said it. Could this have something to do with whatever the creature is searching for? As if answering your question, the creature abruptly turns and begins walking in a different direction, a determined nature to his step, eye staring dead ahead instead of scanning the area as it had done before. You shake your head and follow, curious to see what could possibly have caught his attention so suddenly.

After a few minutes of walking, you begin to think that the creature is just seeing or hearing things, chasing his imagination. Still, you follow. Surely the creature will realize it was nothing and lose interest eventually.

The search leads you to what you recognize as the Raccoon City subway station. You follow the creature down a flight of stairs and around a bend until the main gate comes into view. Just past the gate you can see two figures, a man and a woman.

“S.T.A.R.S.!” the creature roars, and the two figures immediately turn to face him, both clutching various firearms. You quickly duck behind the creature in case they decide to shoot.

“Aw come on. Not again,” you hear one of them say.

The woman is quick to hit the switch that closes the gate, and both she and the man duck under to make an escape. Suddenly the woman stops and turns back around, rolling back under the gate.

“It’s me he’s after. I’ll buy you some time.”

The man runs back up to the gate, but it is too late for him to stop her. “Hey wait! Wait, Jill! No! God dammit!”

The woman, apparently named Jill, takes off down the hall. “Come on, you creepy-ass stalker! You want S.T.A.R.S.? I’ll give you S.T.A.R.S.!”

“Wait, you don’t have to ru-“ you start to shout after her, but you are cut off as the creature’s massive arm wraps around you and swings you over his shoulder like a ragdoll. “What are you doing!? Put me down!” you shout, but the creature ignores your protests.

“Holy shit, Jill! He’s got a live civilian!” the man calls out, and Jill briefly pauses to look back. With a furious roar, the creature takes off down the hall in pursuit of Jill, who quickly thinks better of trying to save you and returns to booking it. The creature’s grip on you is firm, but you still feel like he’s going to drop you at any minute. Your fingers clutch his leather coat for dear life.

You quickly lose track of your surroundings in the chaos of the hunt. A right, then a left, up a flight of stairs, another right, through a set of doors. You can’t see what’s going on up ahead, but you can hear Jill’s frantic footsteps and heavy breathing, so she must be close. Occasionally you feel the creature’s body lurch forward, as if he is trying to grab her, but he always comes away empty-handed.

You now find yourself in a storage room filled with metal shelving units. The tight space and multitude of turns give Jill the upper hand as she gains some distance between herself and the pursuer.

You scream when you hear a gunshot, immediately followed by a huge explosion that leaves your ears ringing painfully. The creature throws you down onto the concrete floor with a roar, and you quickly realize what just happened: Jill shot a flammable canister, it exploded, and now everything is on fire. The creature is on fire. The room is on fire.

You are on fire.

You scream as your body registers the current situation. You stumble across the room, falling into one of the metal shelving units and knocking it over, spilling various supplies across the floor. You turn around and see Jill, who has kicked open a metal grate through which to escape. She turns to face you, a look of utmost horror on her face.

“I-I’m so sorry!” she chokes out before disappearing through the vent, but you can barely hear her over the continued ringing in your ears. You wish she would have thought to shoot you, just to spare you from an inevitably horrific death.

Your mind races, trying to remember what you are supposed to do when you catch on fire, but all you can think about is pain. Pain pain pain pain pain. You shut your eyes tight and scream. Then, just as suddenly as the pain overtook your body, it starts to fade. At first you assume that the fire has melted all your nerve endings, sparing you from the pain that surely would come alongside your body melting apart to ashes and bones. Then you open your eyes and realize there is no fire. Everything is dark.

“Holy shit, I’m dead.” Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and an ugly sob escapes your throat. At one point you had been pretty accepting of the idea that this zombie outbreak would kill you. But then you met that creature, and things started to turn around, and you had been so certain that you were going to survive, that you would be the badass who gets to tell all their friends and family about surviving the literal apocalypse.

You sniffle, trying to hold back your sobbing, and that’s when it hits you. Everything smells rustic and slightly sweet, like… leather. Choking back your tears, you realize that there is a heavy leather cloth on top of you. You aren’t dead. You’re just being smothered by a natural flame retardant. You nearly cry out in overwhelming relief.

As you lay there on the concrete floor, the notable ringing in your ears starts to fade. As your hearing returns, you hear the continued licking of flames and are immediately reminded of the situation; the room and the creature are still on fire. You try to jump to your feet, but the fire managed to cause quite a few serious burns across your body, and you find it painful to move. Still, the sounds of the fire push you onward. With a cry of pain, you push yourself onto your hands and knees and throw off the leather covering. Turning to face the creature, the reality of the situation dawns upon you.

Besides the usual leather boots and leather gloves, the creature is unclothed, his exposed body completely engulfed in flames. He must have removed his coat to extinguish your own flames, sacrificing his fire-resistant barrier. You immediately forget about your own pain; it isn’t important right now. You force yourself to your feet, leather coat in hand, and throw the coat over the creature’s back to slow the spread of the flames. The coat, however, is too small to completely cover the fire across the creature’s much larger body, preventing him from being smothered.

Determined to do something, you frantically look around, and your eyes fall on a fire extinguisher in a glass case located on the other side of the room. Making haste, you dodge around the maze of metal shelves toward the extinguisher. Without a second thought, you bust through the glass with your elbow, wincing as a shard of glass slices through your skin. You grab the extinguisher and maneuver back across the room to the creature, who has thrown the useless coat back to the ground. You pull out the locking mechanism on the extinguisher and take aim, spraying anything and everything that even vaguely looks like it’s on fire. It’s only a matter of time before the flames are completely extinguished, and you drop the spent extinguisher to the floor with a metallic clang.

The creature stares down at you, holding onto one of the metal shelves for support. You stare back in utter shock. His skin isn’t even burned at all. How is that even possible? Unable to speak, you simply marvel as the creature reaches down to retrieve his coat as if nothing happened to him at all. Your eyes scan over his body; he’s absolutely ripped. If only that sculpted body had the face of a handsome young man, you would have no choice but to call him attractive. You can’t help but feel slightly disappointed as the creature redresses himself, once again covering his muscles from your personal enjoyment.

Now fully dressed, the creature looks back to you, and you look back to him. A lump forms in your throat as you feel more tears start to well up behind your eyes. You try to hold it back, not wanting to betray the fact that you are slightly traumatized by this experience, but it hurts too much and you let loose a loud sob.

“Holy shit, you saved my life,” you choke out through the tears and sobs. Without thinking, you throw yourself against the creature, wrapping your arms around his body and burying your face in the familiar leather coat, desperate for any form of comfort or solace. You feel the creature tense, at least at first. Then, much to your surprise, he relaxes and allows you to continue. You stand there like that for at least a few minutes, your sobs gradually dissipating into faint whimpers. You can sense the creature growing impatient; still, he doesn’t remove himself from your embrace until you are ready.

Once your emotional outbreak has fully receded, you release your hold on the creature. You sniffle and wipe your face with your arm to remove any tear streaks. You can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed being so emotionally vulnerable in front of someone. Then again, you’ve already been sexually vulnerable in front of that someone, and that’s pretty much the end-all be-all to vulnerability.

You take a deep breath. “I’m okay now. Thank you.”

With that finished, the creature turns to look at the vent through which Jill escaped. He must realize that there is no way he will fit through such a small space, as he immediately turns around and starts to head back through the maze of metal shelves to the storage room door. You follow close behind, the pathways too narrow to walk side-by-side. You much prefer being able to walk around on your own again versus being carried around thrown over someone’s shoulder.

It isn’t long before you have completely retraced your steps and returned to the subway station gate. The man who had been with Jill is nowhere to be seen, and the gate is still closed, so you obviously won’t be going that way.

“What’s the plan?” you ask.

“S.T.A.R.S.”

You shake your head, now understanding that the word is associated with Jill for some reason. “You’re still going to look for her? After she set us on fire?”

The answer is clear as the creature strides toward the flight of stairs leading back up to the main street, determination in his gaze. You quickly follow beside him.

“Dude, why are you so determined to find this lady? What did she do?” No response. Typical.

The two of you make your way through the city streets once again in search of the mysterious Jill. No matter how hard you try, you can’t get the look on her face as she told you she was sorry out of your head. She looked so agonized, so mortified, at what she had done to you. Wherever she is now, she surely is fixated on the image of your burning body, on your inevitable death, on her personal guilt. You kind of hope that you run into her again, just so you can let her know that she didn’t truly kill you. You would hate for her to have to live with that unwarranted guilt for the rest of her life.

You turn your attention to the hordes of zombies roaming the streets around you and ponder the fact that they were once so significant, so threatening. Now they are just a nuisance, something to glance over and immediately forget about. There are much more pressing matters at hand now. Who is Jill, and why is this creature so dead set on catching her? What even is this creature you have latched onto? Or rather, has it latched onto you? Have you latched onto each other? Everything is so confusing.

While you were lost in thought, the creature has led you to an unmarked building. Based on the big metal door and lack of windows, you presume it to be a warehouse of sorts. You highly doubt that Jill is in a locked warehouse, so why has the creature come here?

You approach the door, but it won’t budge. The creature holds out a hand in front of you, signaling for you to step back. You stand a little way away and watch as he braces himself, then launches forward with incredible force toward the locked door.

“Oh, there’s no way that’s going to-“

_CLANG!_

“-work.”

The metal door goes flying off its hinges and your jaw drops in amazement. The creature turns to look at you, and you can almost see a spark of amusement in his eye. You follow him into the warehouse, which is nearly pitch black aside from the area surrounding the door.

“Oh, hold on, I got this,” you announce as you dig inside your bag and pull out your trusty flashlight. With a flip of the switch, a steady beam of light illuminates the path ahead. The creature proceeds, and you follow closely, afraid of what might grab you from the darkness should you stray too far from your protector.

The warehouse is stacked to the ceiling with wooden crates of various sizes stamped with various codes. You have no idea what could be in any of them, but it must be something useful or important, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. The silence of the huge room is unnerving. All you can hear are the footsteps of you and your companion and a few ventilation fans. The creature seems to be observing the crates, perhaps looking for some specific code. You would ask him what code he is looking for so that you can help, but you know he won’t answer you. Or he will just say S.T.A.R.S. again, which isn’t very useful either.

After what feels like an eternity of walking and searching, the creature comes to a halt along one of the back walls in front of a medium-sized crate. Oddly enough, the crate looks quite out of place; for one thing, it is made out of metal rather than wood, and it is just sitting in the middle of the walkway as if someone had just recently placed it there. You examine it a little closer and find that there are no codes stamped on it. You do, however, see a strange symbol, a warped octagon consisting of several red and white triangles. It looks incredibly familiar, but you can’t quite place where you’ve seen it before.

The creature grabs the top edge of the crate and yanks it open with no effort at all, throwing the metal to the side. You point the flashlight to see what could be inside the mysterious package. It appears to be a large device, but what its actual function is, you have no idea.

The creature reaches inside the crate and pulls out the device. You watch with awe as he seems to immediately know what to do with it. He first lifts a huge cylindrical tank and threads his arms through two straps, securing the tank onto his back. He then lifts the gun-like half of the device by a handle until the weapon rests comfortably under his arm. The device is huge, and you highly doubt that any normal-sized person would be able to wield it.

“What is that?” you ask.

Almost too eagerly, the creature flips a switch on the device, and a small, flitting flame appears at the end of the nozzle.

It’s a flamethrower.


	4. Jill Valentine

“Carlos, can you hear me now?”

Jill makes her way through the city’s sewer system, clutching her radio with a desperate hope that she is finally in range. The radio crackles to life, and she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Jill! Oh, thank god! Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alive. I lost him.” Truthfully, though, everything is not okay. The image of that burning civilian, screaming in pain and betrayal… the thought haunts her. Why had that monster been carrying a civilian in the first place? And why had she shot that barrel? Dammit, that civilian might still be alive had she just been a little faster getting through that storage room and opening the grate.

Carlos’ voice snaps Jill back to reality. “Great. The subway’s ready to go. We’ll leave as soon as you make it back.” For a moment Jill contemplates telling Carlos about the civilian’s fiery fate, but then she thinks better of it. He didn’t ask about it, so he probably forgot all about it by now. And what does she expect to get out of him, comfort? Pity? That’s the last thing she wants from an Umbrella operative.

Jill reaches the end of the corridor, where there is a metal ladder leading up to the city’s surface. She looks up to stare at the night sky, eager to get out of this disgusting sewer, get to the subway, and get the hell out of this god-forsaken city for good. Rung by rung, she begins her ascent.

“S.T.A.R.S.”

Shit.

Before Jill can react, a massive gloved hand reaches down from above and grabs her by the head, yanking her up the rest of the way until she is eye to eye with her monstrous stalker. She reaches up above her head and claws angrily at the creature’s hand, which is bigger than her entire head. Unfazed by her struggle, the creature tosses her to the ground like a dead fish.

Jill quickly pushes herself up onto her hands and knees and turns to face the persistent attacker, only to stare down the lit nozzle of a massive flamethrower. After having set him on fire during their last encounter, the tables have certainly turned. There’s no time to contemplate the irony of the situation, though, and Jill quickly jumps to her feet and takes off in the opposite direction. She spots a big metal door that looks easy enough to slide open and decides to use it as her escape route. Sprinting over a few zombie corpses, she reaches the door and grasps at the handle to open it.

To Jill’s horror, the door doesn’t budge. It isn’t locked, it has been purposefully jammed. She has walked right into her pursuer’s trap. She spins around on her heels to search for some other method of escape, only to find that the creature has lit the surrounding area on fire, and every other direction is fenced off, trapping her against the jammed door. She watches with wide eyes as the creature emerges from the flames, the fire’s light glistening menacingly against his leather coat.

Jill can’t believe this. She’s survived so many horrific things because she is always able to fight back or escape. Now neither of those go-to options are available, and she has no idea what to do. She’s tough, she’s determined, she can’t possibly go down this easily all because she fell for a stupid trap and got cornered. It just can’t happen like that. She won’t let it.

Jill pulls out her gun and begins to shoot at the creature, hoping that she can at least slow him down long enough to think of a solution to this predicament. The bullets hit him squarely in the chest and face, everywhere that would certainly kill any other creature. Yet this monster just shrugs them off like she’s shooting him with a child’s marshmallow gun. Jill screams in pure animosity as she continues to shoot the creature. She knows she’s acting in pure desperation and irrationality, but she’s so full of fury toward this monster that she can’t bring herself to stop.

The creature just stands there, knowing that she can’t go anywhere, watching her shoot her gun pointlessly. She realizes with disgust that he is toying with her, waiting for her to finish, waiting for her to give up, before he kills her. With a defiant look in her eye, she lowers her gun and lets her arms fall to her sides.

“Fuck you,” she hisses, and she swears she can hear the creature chuckle. He raises the flamethrower to point directly at his target, and Jill jams her eyes shut. Jill had always heard that burning alive was one of the worst ways to die. Maybe this is karma’s sick retribution for her accidentally setting that civilian on fire.

The burning end, however, does not come.

Slightly relieved, slightly terrified, and slightly confused, Jill slowly opens her eyes only to find you, the civilian that she saw burn to death, standing between her and the monster, arms outstretched protectively. It’s an almost humorous sight, your tiny form silhouetted in front of the massive creature. It’s also a terrifying sight, considering that you are supposed to be very much dead.

The monster lets out a menacing growl, still pointing the flamethrower at Jill and, in turn, you. Jill stares in awe and bewilderment as you refuse to budge from your defensive stance.

“No,” you firmly state. “I won’t let you kill her.”

What follows is a stare down that seems to drag on for an eternity. The monster stares at you, and you stare at him, both of you refusing to budge. You can sense Jill standing behind you, tense and unsure of what to do to help.

“S.T.A.R.S.” the creature eventually growls, as if trying to change your mind.

“If you want to kill her that badly, then go ahead,” you start. “But you’ll have to kill me first.”

Much to Jill’s shock, that proposition seems to influence the creature’s previously immovable stance. He furrows his brow in a mixture of anger and confusion as if trying to fight off an excruciating headache.

You speak again, the firmness in your voice now supplemented by a certain sense of compassion. “I don’t know why you want to kill her, but you don’t have to. You don’t have to kill anybody. You can make that choice. Just like you chose not to kill me.”

There is a moment of hesitation. Then the creature narrows his single eye, leans forward, and lets out an infuriated roar loud enough to shake the ground, nearly knocking you and Jill over from the force of the sound waves. Every bone in your body screams at you to move, to stop trying to play hero and just let this creature do whatever it is that he wants to do to this woman. What makes you think he can even be reasoned with? Yet you stay rooted to the spot. This creature saved your life, obviously he must have some hint of empathy somewhere in that vicious mind.

“Go ahead then!” You shout, your voice cracking despite your best attempt to sound confident. “Kill me!”

Jill closely watches the creature’s face contort through a series of different emotions. At first, he looks enraged as he lets out a dark growl and tightens his grip on the flamethrower, and she is certain that he is going to take you up on your recommendation. But for some reason, he can’t seem to bring himself to go through with it. His next expression is one of frustration, frustration at your stubbornness to not let him do his damn job, frustration at his own inability to dispatch a single worthless human standing in his way. This is followed by confusion. Why can’t he kill you? Or rather, why _won’t_ he kill you?

You shout as loud as your vocal cords can bear. “I said kill me!”

Jill watches in amazement as the creature slowly lowers the flamethrower, flipping the switch to shut off the fuel flow. The flame at the tip of the nozzle sizzles into nothing. He raises his free hand and grasps his head in apparent agony.

Your arms fall to your sides and your knees give out, but Jill reaches out and catches you before you hit the asphalt. You place your hand on her shoulder to steady yourself, head spinning.

“What’s wrong?” Jill asks as she looks you over for any injuries that may have caused you to collapse.

“Nothing,” you insist. “I just stared death in the face, that’s all. That’s all.”

Jill lets go of you once she is certain that you can support yourself again. “Did... did you just tell him off?”

“Uh, I think so?”

Jill looks at you strangely, occasionally glancing nervously at the creature to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind about sparing her. "That was either really brave, or really stupid."

You laugh nervously. "I'd go with stupid."

“Look, I have a lot of questions. I mean, a lot,” Jill states.

“I may or may not have answers,” you respond. “But perhaps we should go somewhere a little less… on fire?”

“That would probably be the best idea,” Jill agrees. “But I don’t see anywhere we can go.”

“Let me handle it.” You turn to face the creature again. “Hey, are you doing alright over there?”

The creature removes his hand from his head and turns to face you, still looking confused and frustrated. He growls lowly, as if saying, “Do I look alright to you, bitch?” He frequently glances at Jill, and you notice a flash of hatred in his eye each time he does.

You try your best to assess the situation with what little information you have. You somehow managed to convince this creature not to do the one thing he was hell-bent on accomplishing, and he seems pretty pissed off about it. Do you dare to ask something else of him? Will he listen to you again? Why did he even listen to you in the first place? Is it for the same reason that he saved your life? Is it because you offered him food? Is it because you offered him yourself (or rather, graciously allowed him to take you by force)?

You decide to take a chance and point to the jammed door. “We kind of need to get out of here so we, you know, don’t burn to death,” you explain.

The creature stares at you for a moment, then glares at Jill, then glances at the door. Eventually he steps out of the flames. Jill steps back nervously, and rightfully so considering that he has been trying to kill her all day. You both watch as the creature grips the handle at the bottom of the door, then proceeds to completely rip the door out of its frame and toss it effortlessly to the side like scrap metal. Your mind races at the fact that he just listened to you again, this time without much defiance. A strangely uncomfortable sensation festers in the back of your thoughts.

Is this what power feels like?

You quickly shake off the thought and turn to Jill. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” you say, stepping into the building. The creature follows close behind you.

“Uh… is he coming too?” Jill asks, not moving from her spot.

“I guess so.” You note the nervous hesitation in Jill’s complexion. “Don’t worry, if he was still going to kill you, he would have done it already.” _Probably_ , you want to add, but you don’t.

Jill doesn’t look any less concerned, but she knows she doesn’t have any place else to go, so she reluctantly follows you and the creature into the building. The creature glares at her menacingly, but he doesn’t follow through with any direct action.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Jill Valentine.”

“I’m (y/n).” You turn to look at the creature, who is following closely behind you. “I would introduce you to my friend here, but I unfortunately don’t know his name. All he ever says is S.T.A.R.S., whatever that means.”

“Special Tactics and Rescue Service,” Jill explains. “I’m a former officer.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Sorry for lighting you on fire earlier.”

“It’s fine, shit happens.”

"So about those questions," Jill starts. “How the hell are you alive? Last I saw, you were on fire.”

You point nonchalantly over your shoulder at the creature. “He used his leather coat as a fire blanket.”

That just raises even more questions. “Why would he do that? Why was he carrying you around in the first place? How did you get him to listen to you?”

“Uh…” You feel your face turn red. “Well, he seemed pretty good at killing zombies, and he didn’t really acknowledge my existence at all, so I just started… following him around. To keep the zombies away, you know? And then I offered him some food, and then, uh…” Your voice trails off.

“And then?” Jill prods.

“And then nothing. That’s it,” you blurt out a bit too hastily for it to be believable.

“So let me get this straight,” Jill begins. “This thing has been hunting me all night, doing everything he can to wipe me out of existence. And then you give him food, and that’s all it takes to completely change his MO and keep him under control. Food.”

“Yep,” you squeak.

Jill goes silent for a little while, and you wonder what she is thinking. She can’t possibly believe you. Why isn’t she prying further?

“Do you know why he was after S.T.A.R.S. officers?”

You relax a little, thankful that Jill is moving on to different questions despite your unsatisfying answers. “Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing. Like I said, I just ran into him on the street, and he hasn’t told me anything.” You glance back at him. “I’m not even sure if he can. Speak, that is.”

“Well, whether he can speak or not, he can obviously understand the English language,” Jill ponders. “And effectively use advanced weapons, apparently. I’ve never seen anything like him before.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty incredible,” you say, then shut your mouth hard. That was a stupid thing to say.

“Uh, yeah.” Jill replies, seeming a bit perturbed.

You quickly think up a question to distract from the awkwardness. “So, where were you headed, anyway? I’ve just been following the big guy around, but now that he’s no longer looking for you, I suppose we don’t really have anywhere to go.”

Jill contemplates this for a moment. “Well, I was headed for the subway. I’ve got some people waiting for me there. We’ve set up a route to evacuate survivors to Fox Park Station.”

“Oh, I see.” A few hours ago, you would have jumped at the opportunity to get the hell out of this zombie-ridden city. Now, however, you aren’t so sure that’s what you want. You obviously can’t take the creature with you if you evacuate, but you can’t just leave him behind. Not after he saved your life. Not after… everything else.

“You alright?” Jill asks. You must have been silent for too long.

“I was just thinking about the subway evacuation,” you reply. “I, uh, don’t think I’m going to go."

"Why not? This could be your only chance to get out of here alive.”

You glance back at the creature. “I can’t just… abandon him.”

Jill raises an eyebrow, then gawks at you when she realizes you aren’t joking. “You’re telling me you want to stay here, in a doomed city overrun with zombies… because of him?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Jill then eyes you up and down, a look of what seems to be confoundment on her face. “You’re really something strange, you know that (y/n)?”

“Uh…”

“How about this,” Jill starts. “You two come back to the station with me. We can explain the situation to my cohorts and decide what to do from there. I mean, having this creature on our side… there’s a lot of potential to that.”

You hesitate, wondering if there is an ulterior motive to the offer. Then you consider the fact that you have an eight-foot-tall, bulletproof, fireproof, flamethrower-wielding monster that can rip apart metal doors and impale people on your side. What could they possibly do to you?

“Alright.”

“Great.” Jill pulls out her radio. “Hey, Carlos, you there?”

“Right here. Everything alright?”

“I’ve got a really big update. I mean, really big.”

“Did something happen?”

“You could say that. The monster tracked me down again.”

“Shit, that fucker’s persistent. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine now. But get this: I’m bringing him back with me.”

“What are you talking about? I thought your whole idea was to lure him away from the station.”

“Well, yes, when he was hostile. I ran into this civilian… the one that was with him earlier. She has him completely under control. She even got him off S.T.A.R.S.’ tail. He’s literally walking a few feet behind me, completely docile.”

“Wow Jill, you never struck me as the jokester type.”

“Carlos, I’m being serious. Look, we’ll be at the station in a few minutes. You can choose not to believe me, but don’t act surprised when he shows up anyway.”

“Whatever you say, supercop. Just hurry back.”

Jill puts the radio away and turns to you. “Sounds like there could be some misunderstandings when we get back to the station. Will you be able to keep him under control even if some erroneous shots are fired?”

You smile, realizing just how much power you now possess. “Certainly.”


	5. The Rendezvous

You and the creature follow Jill through the city. You are thankful that Jill seems to know every back alley and every side street, considering that you have absolutely no idea where you are right now. You may have lived in Raccoon City for a while, but you never really took the time to learn the layout of the city aside from your usual routes to and from work, the grocery store, and so on.

“So, who is this Carlos guy?” you ask as the three of you step onto another side street.

“He’s with U.B.C.S.,” Jill answers, as if that explains anything. “He saved my ass from your friend there earlier.”

“Oh yeah? How’d that happen?”

Jill shakes her head and frowns as she relives the memory. “I tried to run him over with a sedan. Probably not the smartest idea, considering that he just grabbed it like a fucking matchbox car. He punched through the windshield and tried to strangle me, but I managed to drive over the edge of the parking garage.”

“And you survived that?” you ask with amazement.

Jill laughs lightly. “I’ve survived a lot worse.”

“What happened next?”

“I managed to crawl away before the car exploded. At that point he pretty much had me cornered, until Carlos showed up and shot him with a rocket launcher.”

“Holy shit.” Getting hit by a car, falling over the top of a parking garage, getting shot by a rocket launcher, catching on fire, getting shot in the face… Is there anything this creature of yours can’t survive, let alone walk off like it’s nothing?

“He caught the first shot, actually.”

“That’s… that’s metal as hell.”

You round the corner and spot your destination in the distance. “Stay behind me,” Jill instructs as you all approach the stairs leading down to the station. “The last thing we need is for you to get shot or something.”

“Uh, okay,” you say, falling back a few steps until you are walking beside the creature. You glance at him nervously; how will the others react? You two follow Jill into the station. You suppose everyone is probably waiting at the subway car already.

The three of you emerge in the boarding area, and you spot a group of three uniformed men convened at the entrance of the car. They turn toward your small company at the sound of your footsteps entering the room.

“Oh, Jill, you- Holy shit!”

You scream when gunshots echo throughout the subway tunnel as one or more of the men take aim and fire at the apparent threat following Jill. The creature reaches out an arm and shoves you behind him defensively before turning toward the attackers and letting out an intimidating roar, hardly bothered by the shower of bullets against his body. He lunges forward toward the offending group of men, but you grab his arm. You obviously aren't strong enough to restrain him, but he still pauses at your touch and looks back at you. You shake your head at him for him to stand down. He gives you a frustrated growl, but to your surprise, he ultimately listens and steps back.

Jill holds up her hands. “Don’t shoot!” she shouts over the gunfire. “He’s docile!”

It takes a moment, but the gunfire dies down. You peek out from behind your protector to see the men still pointing their firearms in your direction, maintaining a defensive stance. The first one to relax is the man you saw with Jill earlier, who you can only assume is Carlos.

“What the hell, Jill? You could have warned us!”

“Um, I did.”

A fourth man steps out of the subway car, gun at the ready. “What the hell is happening out-“ He stops mid-question, thick Russian accent hanging in the air. He stares at the creature, then at you, and frowns. No one has ever stared at you with such intensity.

“This is (y/n),” Jill explains. “She’s the civilian that got this guy under control.”

You cautiously step out from behind the creature, who seems a bit hesitant to expose you to these armed men. “Uh, hi,” you murmur.

Carlos winces. “Shit, what happened to you?”

You tilt your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Your nose is completely busted,” Carlos explains. “And you’re covered in burns.”

You shrug. “It’s the zombie apocalypse, dude. Did you expect me to look like a supermodel?”

“What is this, a joke?” the Russian man pipes up. “That puny girl tamed that thing?” He sounds exasperated, almost angry. You glare back at him, hating it when people call you a “girl” on account of your size. You are a woman, thank you very much.

An older man with a beret holds out his hand to silence his comrade. “Let’s straighten this out with some rationality," he says with an even thicker Russian accent. "Miss Valentine, what exactly happened out there?”

“He ambushed me with the flamethrower as I was leaving the sewers.”

Carlos shakes his head in amazement as he notices the massive flamethrower attached to the creature. “That thing can use weapons?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jill replies. “I’ll admit, I was caught off guard. But this young lady,” she says, reaching out a hand and placing it on your shoulder with a small smile, “showed up and saved my ass.”

The man with the beret rubs his chin and hums thoughtfully. He then turns to you. “(Y/n), was it not? How did you manage to tame this beast?”

Ugh, not again. “I, uh…” you stammer, but thankfully Jill cuts you off.

“All she did was offer him some food,” she states matter-of-factly. You blink blankly. There’s no way she bought your lie, right? Why is she covering for you?

“Bullshit,” Nicholai objects.

“It’s what she told me,” Jill argues.

“Then you’re even more stupid than I thought. The girl’s obviously lying.” He marches over to you, and you back against the creature nervously. “Tell the truth, girl.” Your face goes red, but you aren’t sure if it’s from embarrassment or fear.

“Jill already told you, I just gave him some food.

Nicholai glares at you. Before you know what is happening, you are staring down the barrel of his gun. “The truth.”

The creature doesn’t hesitate to snatch the gun out of Nicholai’s grasp. You watch with awe as he crushes the weapon in a single fist like an empty soda can, then drops the destroyed weapon at Nicholai’s feet. A deep growl rumbles in his chest as he points the nozzle of the flamethrower in Nicholai’s face, casually flipping on the fuel to ignite the tiny flame at the tip.

Nicholai looks back at you and smiles as if there isn’t a deadly weapon pointed at his face. “Ah, so that is how it is going to be, then.” He backs away, not taking his eyes off you all whilst wearing that superficial grin. “No matter. The truth will come out. Eventually.” With that, he turns and retreats into the subway car. The way he said that with such confidence sends a chill up your spine. Satisfied that Nicholai has retreated, the creature flips off the flamethrower and lowers it back to his side.

“You have to admit that Nicholai has a point,” Carlos says. “I mean, none of you saw this thing in action, how absolutely determined he was to kill Jill. It is pretty hard to believe that all it took to curb that determination was some food.”

“Is it really that important?” Jill asks. “All that matters is that he’s no longer a threat to S.T.A.R.S., or anyone for that matter, and how we can use that to our advantage.”

“Miss Valentine is right,” the beret man says. “As odd as this situation is, we simply don’t have the time or resources to study it right away. We can worry about what makes the creature tick later. We need to focus on getting the civilians to safety. Now, perhaps we can discuss how this creature can be of use to us.” He turns to you. “Will this creature continue to follow orders after you evacuate?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure,” you reply. Part of you dislikes the connotations of him following your orders. Why would he follow your orders when he could snap you in half in two seconds? You prefer to think that he’s just humoring your requests for some reason. “To be completely honest, I wasn’t planning on evacuating at all. I just came here with Jill so that we could maybe help out with something here in the city.”

“Ah, I see.”

The man who has yet to speak steps forward. “Mikhail, maybe they could come with Carlos and me. It might be a good idea to have them around in case we run into trouble.”

“You mean you aren’t boarding the train?” Jill asks.

Carlos shakes his head. “Afraid not. There’s still a lot to take care of here in the city, there will be new orders.”

Jill looks concerned. “This isn’t the last ride out of town, right?”

“Do not worry,” the beret man, apparently named Mikhail, says. “Once the civilians are safe, the train will be back.”

“It’s alright, you go on ahead,” Carlos insists. “I’m not gonna die on you, and leave you in a cold, cruel, Carlos-less world.”

“Okay,” Jill says, rolling her eyes. She then turns to you. “You sure you’re gonna be alright out there? It isn’t too late to catch the train with us.”

You chuckle and look up at the creature. “I think I’ll survive.”

Jill nods. “If you say so. Good luck out there. And thanks again for the save.” With that, she boards the train.

Mikhail turns to you, Carlos, and the man who’s name you still do not know. “Carlos, Tyrell. You have your orders. You need to go back out into the city and find Nathaniel Bard. His vaccine research could save us all. (Y/n), are you alright accompanying my men?”

“Wait, we’re actually considering this?” Carlos asks before you have a chance to speak.

“What, do you not trust me?” you ask.

Carlos frowns. “Not particularly, no. That thing is dangerous, and I have a hard time believing you really have this under control. I saw him lunge at us when you first got here.”

“Well, maybe that's because you were shooting him?” you say. “I honestly just want to help. Why would I have saved Jill if I didn’t want to help? Why would I have held him back while you were shooting at him if I didn’t want to help?” Carlos opens his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but he finds he doesn’t have one. You turn back to Mikhail. “I’m more than happy to offer my assistance.”

“Excellent. Carlos and Tyrell know what they’re doing, so just stay out of their way unless they really need you. I trust that you will be a valuable asset.” Mikhail turns to the men. “Good luck out there.” He turns and boards the subway car, door closing behind him. Suddenly the subway train roars to life. Picking up speed, it begins its voyage into the tunnels. Looking through the window, you see Jill watching Carlos as she gets further and further away. You also see Nicholai sitting in one of the seats. He is staring at you. You quickly break eye contact and don’t relax again until the subway car is completely out of view.

“So how exactly are you going to find one man in this entire city?” you inquire.

“We’ve got intel that Bard is holding out in the S.T.A.R.S. office at the Raccoon Police Department,” Tyrell answers. “We’ll search there first.”

“Well, we’re not getting any closer just standing around here,” Carlos says impatiently. “Let’s get going.” He glances at you. “And you heard Mikhail, don’t try anything stupid.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tyrell and Carlos head toward the exit, and you and the creature follow close behind. You can’t blame Carlos for being apprehensive, but you wish he would at least give you a chance. It would certainly make this mission more tolerable. Why did you even agree to help instead of evacuating in the first place? Oh, right, the creature. He must have fucked all the common sense out of you for you to forego your own safety just so you could stick around with him a little longer.

You think back to Jill, and you hope she’ll be alright. You wonder if you two could have become friends under different circumstances. She struck you as kind and intelligent, as well as somewhat unpredictable. Why did she try to convince the others of your lie? She just had to know you were lying, she was too smart not to.

Then you think of Nicholai. Why was he so hostile? And why on earth had he pointed a gun at you, right in front of the creature? He had to have known it would end badly, yet at no point did he show any fear at all. It was almost like he was testing the creature, testing you. Does he know more than he lets on? Nonetheless, you don’t trust him as far as you can throw him. Just the thought of him staring at you as the train left the station makes you incredibly unsettled, and you struggle to shake the haunting image from your head. You feel your hairs stand on end at the thought.

The creature suddenly holds out his gloved hand in front of you, and you turn to him blankly. He is staring expectantly at you. Does he sense your unease? After a moment’s hesitation, you raise your hand and wrap it around one of his fingers. He seems satisfied by this and turns his attention back to the road ahead. A strange warmth fills you when you realize this is the first time he has independently initiated a gesture of affection.

As you walk hand in hand (or rather finger in hand), all thoughts of Nicholai are pushed from your mind and replaced with a very different concern. What is this weird warm feeling and why are you feeling it? You know you’ve felt this feeling before, but never this strongly. You try to recall why this feeling is vaguely familiar, and then it hits you.

Oh god.

This is the feeling you get when you are _attracted to someone_.

This creature is a horrifying killing machine, and somehow your stupid monkey brain has decided he’s perfect mate material. You suppose he _is_ pretty badass, and strong, and muscular, and protective, and his voice is damn cool, and he has a good sense of fashion, and that flamethrower looks really good on him, and- Shit, this isn’t helping!

You start to consider the implications of this development. Surely you can’t stay with this creature forever. The world isn’t made for monsters. Surely, he can’t offer you the same things that a relationship with a normal human would offer you, right? You don’t know what he is or where he came from. You don’t know his name. He never speaks. You can’t even kiss him; he doesn’t have any lips. And you only met him a few hours ago! What would your friends and family think?

On top of all that, what makes you think he would reciprocate your affections? What makes you think he is even capable of that level of emotional comprehension? Even if he is, you don't see yourself as anything special, so why would he suddenly drop everything and take an interest in you? Sure, he fucked you, he patiently tolerated you rambling about yourself, he carried you with him on his hunt for Jill, he saved your life when you were on fire, he let you embrace him and cry, you got a few looks of amusement out of him, he listened to your desperate pleas to spare Jill, he shielded you from bullets, he crushed a gun in his bare fist and threatened to kill a man for you, he initiated hand holding…

...Maybe he _is_ interested?

No, of course not. You’re just projecting your own emotions onto him, right? Jumping to conclusions? To think that you are even considering declaring yourself and this monster as “in a relationship” is absurd and insane. Yet whenever your mind drifts to your previous relationships, you can’t recall ever feeling this… secure. This warm. Are you just feeling this way because he saved your life? Are you just feeling this way because you fucked?

You shake the doubts from your head. You’ll worry about the future when it comes. Normalcy and common sense and self-preservation be damned, all you want to think about right now is this moment, this feeling, right here in the present.


	6. Life

The walk to the RPD is relatively uneventful. Neither Carlos nor Tyrell have tried to initiate any conversation with you, and for that you are thankful. You were lucky to have Jill to cover your ass when you were interrogated at the subway station. You aren’t sure you can handle any more prying questions now that she is long gone.

Unfortunately, this silence doesn’t last forever, as Tyrell finally decides it’s time to speak up. “So, (y/n). What’s your story?”

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“Where you from? What are you doing here in Raccoon City? Got any friends or family out there?” You wonder if he is genuinely interested in your life story, or if he is just trying to trip you up so you let something slip. It’s not like you have anything to hide, aside from the true nature of your “relationship” with the creature, so you figure it won’t hurt to indulge him.

“I’m from out of state. I moved here three years ago after my uncle passed away. I inherited his antique business. As for friends and family, well, there’s not much to say. All my living relatives are still out of state, and I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I haven’t made any friends in the city. I mean, I have acquaintances. Regulars at the shop, for example. But I couldn’t tell you much more than their first names.”

“That’s kind of a blessing in disguise, isn’t it?” Tyrell asks. “Since you don’t know anyone in the city, there’s nobody for you to worry after during this whole zombie thing.”

“I guess,” you say. “I mean, I still feel for everybody. Nobody really deserves to die out there.”

“I get that,” Tyrell says. “I have to emotionally distance myself from all the death so that I can do my job right. But that bad feeling at the death of others never really goes away.”

After a few more minutes of silence, Carlos surprises you by speaking up. “I suppose we should thank you for saving Jill earlier.”

“Hey, I heard you saved her first,” you reply.

“Ah, it wasn’t really saving, it was more just assisting. She could’ve handled it on her own if I hadn’t been there.”

“That’s not how she described it.”

Carlos goes quiet for a moment. You wonder if talking about Jill like this is making him uncomfortable. You can’t help but wonder if there is any romantic tension between the two. You decide to change the subject.

“Did he really catch a rocket?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean the big guy. Yeah, he caught my first shot. Then he tossed it away and blew up a car or something.”

“Woah.” You glance up at the creature, whose finger is still tightly grasped in your comparatively tiny hand. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”

“Yeah, me too. Maybe if you’d been there you could have gotten him under control a lot sooner, spared us a lot of unnecessary headache.”

“Oh, um… sorry?”

“Oh, give her a break, Carlos,” Tyrell butts in. “Poor lady looks like she’s been through enough hell already today. Just be thankful she showed up when she did.” That seems to be enough to kill the conversation, as Carlos goes silent.

It only takes a few more minutes for the four of you to reach the gates surrounding the RPD. “It’s been awhile,” Carlos states as Tyrell moves to open the gate. “Subway’s gotta be clear of the city by now.

“Along with your hot date?” Tyrell mocks.

“Nah, she’s not like that,” Carlos rebuttals. “Hell, she’s not like anybody.” It takes all your strength to hold in a snicker. You know a crush when you see one.

Tyrell gets the gate open and the rest of you follow him into the yard. “Alright, keep your head screwed on Romeo. This is the police station.”

“Uh, you sure?” Carlos asks. “’Cause it looks like a cemetery to me.” You can’t help but agree with him as you step over what appears to be a gravestone.

You continue forward and begin to descend a flight of stairs, only to freeze at the sound of a struggle up ahead. Carlos holds out an arm to signal you all to stop and take evasive action.

“Brad! Stop!” you hear someone yell. You look through the fencing to see a police officer backing away from a zombie. “C’mon man. Not you too!” He points his gun into the zombie’s face. “Sorry,” he says, preparing to shoot his former friend.

“So…rry…” the zombie mimics.

The word is enough to make the police officer hesitate. A fatal mistake. The zombie lunges forward and pushes the police officer to the ground, taking a huge bite out of his lower abdomen. The officer shouts in pain and kicks the zombie off his body in panic, but you know it is already too late. As the zombie rolls across the ground, the police officer jumps to his feet and flees into the police station, slamming the door shut behind him.

Tyrell waves his hand, indicating that the coast is clear. You regroup and run up to the front of the station. Tyrell tries the doors. “Shit! It’s locked!”

“You stay on the door,” Carlos replies, turning to the zombie that is now rising to its feet. “We’ve got this fucker.”

“Um, may we do the honors?” you ask.

Carlos turns to you, a bit surprised. “Uh, if you want?”

To your disappointment, the creature slips its finger out of your grasp as it approaches the zombie. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. You watch with amusement as the creature swipes at the zombie with his flamethrower like a bludgeon. The nozzle strikes the zombie’s head with a loud crack, sending the undead monster sprawling to the ground. The creature raises his foot, then stomps down hard on the zombie’s head, instantly shattering its skull and sending blood and brains splattering across the concrete.

“Well, he’s efficient, I’ll admit that much. Doesn’t even need ammo,” Carlos muses. He reaches down to examine the remainder of the corpse, pulling out an identification card. “He’s S.T.A.R.S.? That could be useful.”

“Got the door,” Tyrell announces, pushing it open. With one last glance at the former zombie, you all enter the main lobby of the RPD. The building is massive; the lobby alone is one of the biggest rooms you’ve ever seen.

“Where’d that cop go?” Carlos ponders aloud.

“Don’t know, don’t care. We got a job to do,” Tyrell responds. He walks over to a computer terminal behind the front desk. “If our intel’s still worth a damn, then Bard’s in the S.T.A.R.S. office. Let’s find him and take him into custody.”

“Custody?” Carlos asks. “I thought this was a rescue.”

“Carlos, take a look at this.” Tyrell motions for Carlos to come examine the computer monitor, which now displays a map. “I’ve located the S.T.A.R.S. office. Remember, Bard had access to Umbrella’s darkest secrets. He knows we’ll try to keep him under our thumbs.”

Umbrella… Why does it feel like you are forgetting something important?

“So this search and rescue mission is really more like find and detain,” Carlos says. “Right. Good to know.”

“I’ll open the shutter so you can get through,” Tyrell says as he navigates some command prompts on the computer.

“You stay here and find out what’s been going on here at the station,” Carlos says.

“Call ya if I find anything,” Tyrell says. “Hey, be careful.”

“Yeah, you too man.” Carlos then turns to face you again. “You and your friend might draw too much unwanted attention if you come with. You should stay here and watch Tyrell’s back so he can focus on the terminal.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” you respond with a curt nod. “Don’t get yourself killed out there. You don’t want to leave us in a cold, cruel, Carlos-less world.”

For the first time that you’ve seen, Carlos grins at you and your attempted humor. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” With that, he takes off to accomplish his mission.

You boost yourself up onto the front desk to sit, watching Tyrell work at the terminal. You quickly lose interest in watching him look through security camera feeds, however, and instead turn your attention to a stack of documents sitting on the desk. You flip through it, looking for any interesting reading material, but it’s mostly just empty forms. You start to read them anyway, just to keep your mind occupied. It isn’t long before your eyelids start to feel heavy. You realize just how much you’ve been through today. You ran a few blocks, walked a few more, broke your nose, caught on fire, and had a really, really intense fuck session. You’re exhausted.

“Hey, Tyrell? What time is it?”

“2:37 a.m.,” he replies, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Why? You late for something?”

“I’m late for sleeping,” you reply, followed by an aptly timed yawn. Tyrell chuckles in response.

“Well, this might take a little while. Why don’t you go find somewhere to lie down for a bit?”

“You sure you’ll be alright?” you ask, recalling that you are technically supposed to be watching his back while he works.

“I’m sure I can manage on my own,” Tyrell assures you. “Go get some rest.”

You nod and smile. “Alright, thanks.” You jump off the front desk and look around for a good place to take a nap. The room is huge, but it’s mostly stairs and statues, no soft looking chairs or benches. You sigh, supposing that you’ll just have to rest on the floor. You walk over to the edge of the room and sit down, leaning up against the wall. You can still see Tyrell from this spot, so if anything happens you know he will still be able to locate you easily.

You close your eyes and lean your head back against the wall. It’s a very uncomfortable position, however, and you find yourself constantly adjusting yourself. You sit with your legs outstretched, then crossed, then bent at the knees, then outstretched again. After a few shuffles you consider that maybe leaning against the wall isn’t the best napping position, and you lay down on the floor instead. Your shoulder blades dig into the hard tile, so you shift to your side, only for the same effect to occur at your pelvic bone. You lay on your stomach but can’t figure out how to place your face without a pillow. There’s no way you can get any decent rest under these conditions, no matter how tired you are.

Footsteps sound next to you, and you look up from your position on your stomach to see that the creature has followed you. You watch as he sits down on the floor next to you, leaning back against the wall as well as he can considering that he is still wearing a massive fuel tank. He stares down at your form sprawled out across the floor, as if silently questioning your life choices.

“Same, man, same.” You roll over and sit up again. After a moment of internal pouting over not being able to get comfortable, an idea hits you. You glance over at Tyrell to see if he is paying any attention. He is solely focused on the computer screen, just as you had expected. You push yourself to your feet and walk over to the creature. He stares up at you with a look that says, “You finally get the idea?” And then you sit down on his lap.

You’ve cuddled on plenty of laps, but it was never quite like this. Mainly, none of those laps were ever this accommodating. You can sit with your entire body on him, including your legs when you curl them up against you, and still have plenty of room to spare. It’s like sitting in a giant papasan chair. You lean your body up against his and press your face into his leather coat, breathing deeply. It smells earthy and smoky and rich. Once you are satisfied with the pleasant smell, you press your ear against his chest and listen intently to the sound of his heartbeat. It is heavy and slow and, to your surprise, distinctly human. The subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes is comforting, and you bring a hand up to his chest and slowly slide your fingers against the smooth leather. You can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to by laying here against his bare chest, comforted by the natural body heat of his exposed skin, running your fingers over the grooves formed by his toned muscles. You sigh. The leather will have to do for now.

“I wish I knew what you were,” you whisper so that Tyrell can’t hear you. “I wish I knew where you came from. I wish I knew your name. There’s power in a name, you know. I bet your name is especially powerful.”

You think of all the chaos outside, all the disease and horror and death. Especially death. The sound of this creature’s heartbeat, the motion of his breathing, it reminds you that there is more than just death in this awful city. There is life. This creature is so alive. He makes you feel alive too, more so than you have ever felt before. You ponder how ironic it is that it took so much death for you to get to this moment where everything is so full of life.

“What are we?” you whisper. You feel him gently place his hand against your tiny body, holding you closer. You know he wishes he could answer you, but you have no idea what he would say. You close your eyes, immersed in the feeling of his body surrounding you. Finally, after the longest night of your life, your breathing slows, and you allow sleep to take your mind and body into its waiting arms.

* * *

You wake up to something gently shaking you. You grumble in protest, but the shaking doesn’t stop. “Whatisit…” you mumble.

“Oh, good, you’re not dead.” You recognize the voice of Tyrell.

Your eyes shoot open to find Tyrell standing over you with his arms crossed, and you suddenly become aware that you are still curled up on the creature’s lap, blanketed by his massive hand. “Shit,” you mutter as you push the creature’s hand off your body and quickly jump to your feet, face turning bright red with embarrassment.

“I hate to wake you up, seeing as how you two look so comfortable together,” Tyrell teases.

“Shut up. You didn’t see this.”

“Alright, I didn’t see anything,” Tyrell assures you. “I’m done at the terminal, and Carlos is almost at the S.T.A.R.S. office. I told him we’d head up and meet him there.”

You nod your head, still a bit flustered. “Sure.” You turn to the creature, who is still sitting on the floor. “You coming?” He pushes himself to his feet in wordless response. He’s got an odd gleam in his eye; you’d say he looks happy, if not for his permanent grimace. Your lips quiver as you try not to smile, aware that Tyrell is still watching you. You turn back to Tyrell, knowing that if you stare at the creature any longer, you’ll probably break. “Lead the way.”

The three of you make your way through the building’s winding halls, passing many dead zombies along the way. Carlos must have had a zombie-killing hay day on his way to the office. Less zombies for Tyrell and the creature to worry about killing, you suppose.

“That’s the S.T.A.R.S. office up ahead,” Tyrell says as you turn into one of the hallways. “Hopefully Carlos is already with Bard.” As you approach the office, you can hear two men discussing something inside. It must be Carlos and Bard. You follow Tyrell through the office doors, and the conversation becomes much clearer.

“Umbrella’s gone crazy,” says a voice coming from the computer on the main desk. You realize that Bard isn’t here, but rather on video call from a remote location. “They’re killing all the researchers! I am the only one who knows how to make the vaccine to stop the zombies. So you can either sit there with your dick in your hand, or send… send somebody who’s capable of getting me the hell out of here!” With that, the video call shuts off. Looks like you just caught the tail end of the conversation.

“I like him already,” Tyrell says sarcastically as he steps over toward the desk,

“Yeah, you would,” Carlos replies. “You heard what he said. We can’t turn him over to the company.”

“That’s not our call to make. That’s Mikhail’s call.”

Then it hits you. You spot the logos on the shoulders of Tyrell and Carlos, and you can’t believe it took you this long to make the connection. “That symbol belongs to Umbrella!” you shout, and Tyrell and Carlos turn to look at you.

“What?” they say nearly in unison.

You point to the symbol on Carlos’ shoulder. “That symbol! I remember now, it belongs to Umbrella!”

“Uh, yeah. What about it?” Carlos asks.

“We saw that symbol in the warehouse!” you explain. “It was on the crate that held the flamethrower!”

“Wait, so his flamethrower is an Umbrella flamethrower?” Tyrell asks.

You nod. “Yeah. And he knew exactly where to look for it.”

Carlos looks distressed by this information. “Are you suggesting that this creature is connected to Umbrella?”

“It’s certainly possible, isn’t it?”

Tyrell frowns. “This is… concerning. But we don’t have any solid evidence and there’s nothing we can do about it right now anyway. We’ll have to keep this intel in mind, though.”

Carlos shakes his head. “Was Jill right?” he mutters under his breath, but Tyrell doesn’t seem to hear him.

Tyrell steps behind the desk. “I’m gonna check the computer and see if I can trace the doc’s location. This’ll take some time. Look around, see if you can find anything useful.”

Carlos nods. “I’ll check the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. office. (Y/n), how about you two go check some of the adjacent rooms? Maybe you can find some useful info or supplies.”

“Sounds like a plan. Just yell for us whenever you finish tracking down the doctor, if we haven’t returned already.” Carlos gives you a thumbs up before turning away to start his investigation of the office.

You walk out the office door, the creature close behind you, and examine the hallway. There are quite a few rooms for you to look through, so you had better get started. You decide to just start in the closest room and work your way down. You step forward and open the first door. You hold it open for the creature to enter, then close it and lock it behind you in case any stray zombies should wander down the hall and attempt to get in.

You find yourself in a small office filled with several bookshelves, some filing cabinets, and a single desk covered with stacks of documents. You walk over to one of the filing cabinets and open the first drawer. It is overstuffed with manila folders and even more documents. Isn’t detective work supposed to be fun and exciting? This is just… overwhelming. You begin to finger through the folders, reading the labels on all the tabs with a sigh.

You have a feeling this is going to take a while.


	7. Keep Quiet

It doesn’t take long for you to grow bored. Specifically, it takes less than two filing cabinet drawers. Detective work definitely isn’t for you; you should stick to the antique business. You close the filing cabinet with a huff and begin to pace the room, looking around to see if there is anything interesting that isn’t a folder or a document. A few minutes later and you are fairly convinced that there isn’t. Disappointed, you walk over to the desk and sit down in the swivel chair.

“I bet all the rooms are like this,” you complain. “Pointless paperwork and nothing useful. Why would there be anything useful in here, anyway? Everything we need should be in the S.T.A.R.S. office.” You shake your head. “I bet Carlos was just trying to get rid of us for a while. I don’t think he likes us very much. I mean, I suppose he has a reason to not like _you_ – no offense – but what did _I_ do?” You prop your elbows on the desk and rest your chin on your hands. The creature is staring at you from across the room. You sigh.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining about such pointless shit. I’m just bored. I guess I get a little irritable when I’m bored. Maybe.” The creature doesn’t say anything. You’re thankful for the support.

You lean back in the chair and spin it around a few times as you try to think of something to do to pass the time. After all, who knows how long Tyrell is going to take to track down Bard? You could be here for hours, even. You pick up one of the documents from the desk and start to fold it mindlessly. You used to know how to make a few origami shapes when you were a kid. You try to remember, but nothing comes to mind. You can’t even remember how to make a paper airplane. You crumple up the paper and toss it onto the floor.

You glance over at the creature, who is still staring at you, and your eyes light up. What if…

No. Not here. Not now.

You notice a loose thread hanging from your tank top, so you try to snap it off. When it fails to yield to your hands, you grab the pair of scissors from the pencil holder on the desk and clip it off. You try to tie it in a tiny knot like you used to do when you made homemade jewelry as a kid. You soon realize you can’t remember how to do that, either. Why is it that your kid-self is so much more talented than your adult-self? The useless thread soon joins the crumpled paper on the floor.

You try to resist, you really do, but you can’t stop your eyes from drifting back over to the creature. He’s still standing there and staring, as you expected. The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“You wanna fuck?”

It’s like you flipped an on/off switch. The creature springs to life, striding over to the desk. Shit. It’s not that you’re not into it. To be honest, you’re horny as fuck. You’re just also very aware of the fact that Carlos and Tyrell are in the office right across the hall. Once you get moaning and screaming, they’ll be able to hear every bit of it. You already felt like you were going to die when Tyrell caught you two cuddling. You definitely won’t survive if he finds out you two are fucking as well.

“Okay, okay, wait,” you say, holding up your hands. “We’ve got to figure out how to do this quietly. No, not even quietly. Silently. Do you understand?” No response. You’ll just have to hope that’s a yes.

Then a thought occurs to you. You are a very vocal sex partner; you just can’t help but moan and scream. The creature, on the other hand, was impressively silent the last time you two fucked, other than an occasional guttural growl. Maybe, if you pleasure him and him alone, you can get away with this.

“You know what a blowjob is?” No response. “Alright, doesn’t matter anyway, because that’s our only option right now. Come stand right here.” The creature follows your request, standing in front of you and staring down at you expectantly. It feels weird that he’s doing what you ask. You liked it better when you had no say in the matter and he was holding you up by the neck and pinning you against a car.

You reach out toward his leather coat, a noticeable bulge already forming underneath the material. “Damn, you’re horny too, aren’t you?” you chuckle. “Let’s see if I can’t help you out with that.” You grip the edge of the coat and move it out of the way. That massive cock that you are oh so well acquainted with springs free, nearly smacking you in the face. You are suddenly hit with a familiar dilemma.

“I, uh, almost forgot how big you are,” you say. “I won’t be able to get it all in.”

He continues to silently stare down at you. You shake your head, imagining what he might say if only he could.

“No, not even if I deepthroat it.”

You bring your undivided attention back to the appendage waiting patiently in front of your face, wondering where and how to start. There’s a lot to take in, after all, and you don’t want to underperform and leave him disappointed. You’ve given head before, but you always had partners who would vocalize, cluing you in on how well you were doing. Sucking off someone who is nearly completely silent during sex is new territory.

You scoot your butt forward in the swivel chair to get close enough to place your mouth at the base of the shaft. You deliver a solid lick along his entire length, lingering slightly at the tip. You repeat this action a few times, licking from base to tip. At the end of your final lick, you take the tip lightly between your lips and swirl your tongue around it in small teasing circles. You flick your tongue a few times, then return to making small circles, then bigger circles, bigger and bigger until you finally take the whole head into your mouth and lightly suck. He grunts with satisfaction.

You start to inch your lips lower, taking in more of his length little by little. You move your tongue up and down along the underside of the shaft, humming as you do so. You know you won’t be able to fit his entire cock in your mouth; hell, you’ve only managed about a quarter of it so far. You decide to accommodate with your hands. After wetting your hands with saliva, you wrap your hands around the base, unable to connect your fingertips to your thumbs due to his impressive girth. You run the exposed portion of his cock through your hands while you continue to dance your tongue around the rest of him.

Eventually, you decide you’ve done enough teasing. You push your lips further along his cock until the tip reaches your throat, and then you push even further, almost daring yourself to see how much of it you can take. When you’re satisfied that you can’t take any more without gagging, which is something you’ve never really been into, you decide to start really working him. You begin to bob your head up and down his cock while your hands pump the bottom of his shaft. At first you go slow, but you gradually increase your speed until you reach a comfortable rhythm. The creature seems to approve, as he takes a hand and places it behind your head to hold you steady while letting out that low, guttural growl you were hoping for.

The sound ignites a desperate heat between your legs. You remove one of your hands from his cock and reach down, lifting your skirt so that you can finger at your clit as you work him. You take the sensitive bud and roll it between your thumb and pointer finger, sending a long-awaited jolt of pleasure through your body. You close your eyes as you continue your work of pumping his cock with your mouth and rubbing your own sensitive spot. Wetness begins to form between your legs as pleasure continues to ripple through you. Your mouth must be doing a good job, because the creature begins to buck his hips into you, face-fucking you as he tightly grips your hair in his hand. He’s getting close. And damn, it really gets you going. Without thinking, you let out a heavy moan, the sound muffled by the massive cock stuffed in your mouth.

You quickly but reluctantly withdraw your hand from your clit. In the heat of the moment, you had forgotten that you’re supposed to be silent. Your face turns red at how weak you are to this shit. Hopefully nobody heard you. After all, it wasn’t that loud, and your partner’s cock probably absorbed most of the sound.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t really matter whether Carlos and Tyrell heard you. What does matter is that the creature heard you, and he wants to hear more, Carlos and Tyrell and your remaining dignity be damned.

Before you can register what is happening, the creature pulls out of your mouth with a satisfying pop and releases his grip on your head. He uses his newly freed hand to grab you by the shoulder and lift you up out of the swivel chair. He then slams you down against the desk, pinning you down at the neck and bending you over until your bare ass is sticking up in the air. Your arms flail wildly across the desk as you try to recover from the unexpected change in positions, sending the neatly stacked documents flying onto the floor in a papery storm.

A million thoughts race through your mind at once. First, you have no idea how you’re going to stay silent through this, but you’re determined to try. Second, you’re gonna be super sore tomorrow, at least more so than you already are. Might even have a limp when this is all over. But finally, and most importantly, you now know that being slammed down and bent over an office desk is really, really fucking hot. To have all your control stripped away, to become completely vulnerable to such raw power, that’s exactly what you want.

The creature leans over your body until his face is right next to your head and you can feel his hot breath on your neck, his cock resting against your ass. The fucker is just teasing you now, isn’t he? He already knows what you want, but you have a feeling he’s gonna make you say it. You turn your head to the side to look at him through your peripheral vision. It’s kind of strange; when you first met him, you were repulsed by his face. Now you _want_ to see it.

You smile innocently at him. “You wanna know what I want?” you whisper.

A look of anticipation shines in his eye as he grunts a confirmation. You practically growl out your next sentence.

“I want you to fucking _dominate_ me.”

And he is more than happy to oblige. He doesn’t bother to start slow like he did during your first time with him. No, he knows that’s not what you want. That’s not what you need. You need to be fucking destroyed, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He rams his cock into you, the entry aided by your own juices and saliva. A scream catches in your throat as he stretches you out faster than you can handle; you can’t scream. You can’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t fucking scream.

He pulls out before ramming into you again, then again, his hand still holding you down against the desk. You grip the edge of the desk so hard that your knuckles turn white. With each violent thrust of his hips, you have to stop yourself from screaming in agonizing pleasure. Forcing yourself to stay quiet is pure torment, but there is a plus side. The silence allows you to hear the slapping sound of his body slamming against your buttocks and the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of you, normally unnoticed noises that you find surprisingly arousing. He lets out another guttural growl as he starts to get closer and closer to his release.

You don’t even have to wait for him to come this time; the complete domination is enough to send you over the edge. Holding in one last scream, you clench around his cock and grip the desk so hard you swear your fingers are going to snap. Unparalleled pleasure overtakes your entire being as you orgasm, toes curling tightly inside your boots. After what feels like an eternity of overstimulation, you finally start to come down from your high, panting for breath. You release your grip on the desk, all your strength completely sapped out of you. You did it. You made it all the way without a single moan, a single scream. The creature continues to hammer your now limp body, and you patiently wait for him to finish, filled with a feeling of triumph. You got laid _and_ your dignity will live to see another day.

Except you forgot about one little detail.

The creature makes one final thrust into you and releases his massive load. And as he does so, he throws his head back in mindless pleasure and lets out a roar that reverberates throughout the entire building.

Shit shit shit shit SHIT. YOU FORGOT HE DOES THAT.

As the creature pulls out of you, you can hear the doors to the S.T.A.R.S. office slam open across the hall. You see a silhouette appear at the office door’s window, and the knob of the door jiggles. Your life flashes before your eyes. This is it. This is the end. Someone is going to open that door and see you bent over a desk in front of that monster cock, cum everywhere. The door, however, does not open, and you realize with euphoric joy that you had locked it.

“(Y/n)!” you hear Carlos shout outside. “Are you alright in there!? What the fuck was that noise!? Dammit, why’s the fucking door jammed!?”

You quickly get up off the desk and turn to face the creature, who still looks to be consumed by the afterglow. You tug his coat over his cock to hide the evidence of what just happened. You straighten your skirt and walk around the desk toward the door, ignoring the creature’s cum that is trickling out of you and down your thighs.

“(Y/n), if you don’t answer in the next five seconds, I’m gonna break down the do-“

You open the door to find an exasperated Carlos bracing himself to break it down.

“(Y/n)!” he exclaims with relief. “Are you alright?”

You smile and nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

Carlos relaxes slightly upon hearing that you are fine. “What was that awful sound?”

You point over your shoulder to the creature, who is standing innocently behind the desk. “He must have thought he saw a zombie shadow through the door or something. You know how defensive he gets.”

“And why was the door locked?”

“Didn’t want any zombies sneaking in.”

Carlos looks past you at the creature. His eyes then fall downward with a perplexed look. You recall with horror that the documents from the desk are now scattered messily across the floor. “Uh, are you sure everything is alright?” Carlos asks, looking back up to you with a worried expression.

You give him a double thumbs up, still smiling. “Absolutely.”

“Okay, well… make sure he doesn’t do that again. You nearly gave us heart attacks.” He turns back toward the S.T.A.R.S. office. “Oh, and don’t lock the door.”

“Sure thing,” you reply, maintaining a shit-eating smile until he disappears through the S.T.A.R.S. office doors. As soon as he’s out of sight, you let out the biggest sigh of relief in your entire life. You step back into the office, leaving the door open this time, and walk back behind the desk, collapsing back into the swivel chair. You glare up at the creature. “That was amazing, but also, fuck you.” The creature just chuckles before leaning down and nuzzling his face into your neck with a purr. _A fucking purr_. You know exactly what he would say if he could.

_Let’s do that again sometime._


	8. Spencer Memorial Hospital

You aren’t too thrilled when Carlos and Tyrell inform you that Spencer Memorial Hospital, the place where Bard is hiding, is located on the other end of the city and that you will have to walk several miles to get there. More walking is the last thing you want to do; you’re tired and you’re sore. Then again, whose fault is that?

As you retrace your steps through the halls of the RPD, you quickly realize that, just as you feared, your last love-making session left you with a limp. It’s very subtle, but it’s a limp, nonetheless. As you follow Tyrell and Carlos out the front doors of the police station to begin your long journey, you pray that neither of them will notice. You plan to stick to walking behind them so that they won’t be able to see you struggling.

You are surprised to see it is now daylight outside. The cheerful sunlight strikes you as disconcertingly inappropriate for the zombie apocalypse. At least it will be easier to see where you are going. The four of you make your way back through the RPD gate and out onto the city streets. Now that everything is well lit, you can more clearly see the damage that has befallen the city. Everything is an absolute wreck, and it’s hard for you to believe that everything was perfectly normal just a few days ago. You’re so distracted by the carnage that you don’t notice Carlos sporadically glancing back at you over his shoulder.

Tyrell must notice his friend’s paranoid behavior. “Something wrong?”

Carlos frowns. He leans over to Tyrell and whispers something that you can’t make out. Tyrell shakes his head and heartily laughs in response.

“Carlos, for a U.B.C.S., you’re pretty dense.” Carlos looks a bit confused, and Tyrell just shakes his head again with a mischievous grin. He then turns to look at you over his shoulder. “You doing alright back there? You seem to be a bit… mobility impaired.” You blush; of course they had to notice.

“I-I’m alright, thanks,” you insist. “Think I just stepped wrong on the way down the stairs earlier.” Tyrell grins at you. Why is he looking at you like that?

“You think you’re gonna be able to keep up? It’s gonna be a long walk.”

“I mean, do I have a choice? How else am I gonna get there, with you carrying me?”

Tyrell laughs. “Nah, wouldn’t want to encroach on your personal space. Just let us know if you need a break, okay?”

You huff, wishing he wouldn’t treat you like you’re so weak. Could a weak person survive getting obliterated over a desk like you just had? With a broken nose? And second-degree burns? You think not. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

It turns out you were very wrong. It only takes a few blocks for you to begin to feel the full extent of the physical toll everything has taken on you. You wince every time you step down with your bad leg, the limp getting worse the longer you walk on it. With each step, your clothes rub painfully up against your burns. The strenuous activity leads to heavier breathing, which in turn leads to a sharp pain in your broken nose. You want to die.

Focused on your pain, you don’t realize how far you have fallen behind. You look up to see Tyrell and Carlos up ahead; they have both stopped and turned around, waiting for you to catch up. You blush and increase your pace, trying to ignore the resulting aches and pains.

“You’re in pretty bad shape,” Carlos says matter-of-factly once you finally catch up.

“No shit,” you mutter.

“We’ll do what we can to fix you up when we get to the hospital,” Tyrell assures you. “There’ll be painkillers and burn creams there.”

Carlos shakes his head. “What are you talking about? We won’t even get to the hospital at this pace!”

Tyrell sighs. “Alright, calm down. I know what we can do.” He turns to look up at the creature standing behind you and clears his throat. “Hey, we’re in a bit of a bind here. You gonna help out your girlfriend or am I gonna have to carry her myself?”

Your jaw drops. “What do you mean girlfri-“

You are cut off when the creature’s massive arm swings forward and swipes you up to hold you against his leather-clad chest. “Hey, put me down! I can walk just fine on my own!” you protest.

“No, you can’t,” Carlos scolds. “Stop being stubborn, there are more important things to worry about right now than your pride.”

“Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get going again,” Tyrell says triumphantly. He gives you a knowing wink before he turns around and continues his trek, immediately followed by Carlos. The creature follows close behind with you resting on his arm.

You cross your arms and pout. “I’m not his girlfriend!” you shout after them. They ignore you. You sigh and rest your head against the creature’s shoulder, defeated. You must admit, this is much better than walking. The pain throughout your body has already begun to fade, replaced by nothing more than a dull ache. You could honestly get used to this.

You look up at him and just stare, taking in every detail of his face. The way his skin seems to melt over his jaws and expose raw muscle, the way his gums recede over teeth that are much too long, the way the thick metal staples hold together his flesh, it should all disgust you, shouldn’t it? Why aren’t you disgusted? Before you know what you are doing, your hand is reaching up to his face. You cup his macerated cheek in your palm and gently stroke his skin with your thumb. His eye widens in apparent surprise at the gesture before looking down at you. You smile up at him when he makes eye contact, filled with that same warmth from before. There’s a light of satisfaction in his eye.

Why are you like this? He’s something straight out of a macabre nightmare, horrendous and grotesque and monstrous. You know absolutely nothing about him other than that he’s an invincible killing machine that could crush your skull and snap you in half without a second thought. It doesn’t make any sense that you feel the way you do around him. What is wrong with you? This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.

But if this is so wrong, then why does it feel so right?

You close your eyes. Your body hurts, your head hurts, your heart hurts, and you just want to sleep. You feel yourself drifting away, hand still resting against the creature’s cheek, cradled in his arm. You just want to sleep, and maybe then all the hurting will finally stop.

* * *

“Hey, (y/n), wake up. We’re at the hospital.”

You groan and blink open your eyes to find Tyrell and Carlos watching you. You must have dozed off while the creature carried you across the city.

“What time is it?” you ask groggily.

“11:15 pm,” Carlos replies. Damn, you slept the whole day? You look out the windows to confirm that night has fallen over the city once again. You are suddenly jostled slightly as the creature moves to put you down. Your feet meet the floor and you steady yourself on his arm.

“You gonna be able to walk now?” Tyrell asks.

You nod, gradually putting your weight back on your feet and letting go of the creature’s arm. “Yeah I think so.”

“Alright, Bard’s office should be in the next room,” Carlos explains. “We’ll grab him and then get the hell out of here.”

The four of you enter the next room, which appears to be a lobby of sorts. A computerized woman’s voice springs to life as you enter. “Welcome to the office of Dr. Nathaniel Bard. Please state your business clearly into the intercom.”

Carlos walks over to the office doors and presses the button on the intercom. “Dr. Bard, are you in there? We’re here to rescue you! Open the door!”

“No voice match found,” the computer voice replies.

“Voice match?” Carlos says. “What kind of sci-fi bullshit is this?”

“Maybe we can find a voice recording somewhere,” Tyrell suggests.

“Uh, or we could just break down the doors,” you say plainly.

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Carlos asks.

The creature charges forward without warning. Carlos barely jumps out of the way before the creature’s shoulder impacts the doors, sending them flying off their hinges with a loud crash. He looks back at Carlos proudly.

“Ah, like that,” Carlos says.

Tyrell storms into the room first. “Dr. Bard, where are yo-“ he begins to call, only to stop when he sees the doctor sitting in a swivel chair at a desk. His back is turned to the door. Tyrell approaches cautiously. “Dr. Bard?” He grabs the back of the chair and spins it around to reveal the corpse of Bard, a bullet hole right in his forehead.

“He’s been shot!” Carlos exclaims.

“Shit,” Tyrell mutters. “There’s nothing we can do for him now. Let’s look around the office, see if we can find any information about the vaccine.”

“Hey, check this out,” Carlos calls, gesturing to a lit computer monitor at the back of the office. You and Tyrell walk over to investigate with him. There’s a video recording on the screen, and Carlos clicks play.

The video jumps to life, revealing none other than Dr. Bard. “This is VRC Chief Nathaniel Bard,” the recording says. “September 29. 11 pm. I am acutely aware that my time’s running out. And I hope and pray by making this recording and bringing the truth to light, that I can restore some small shred of honor to my name. All of Raccoon City’s suffering began with the release of a biological weapon known as the T-virus. My employer, the Umbrella Corporation, engineered this virus, and they ordered my team to develop a vaccine, which we did. Now I keep samples of this vaccine here in my office. The rest of it is stored underground. But those sons of bitches on the board, they want to destroy it. They don’t want the world to know what they’ve done, so they’re trying to erase all evidence that the virus ever existed.” The doctor starts to look to the side nervously, as if hearing something. “Now I’m not a fool. I know they don’t want me to…” He trails off, looking to the side again, fear in his eyes. He quickly types something into the keyboard, and the video ends. You all stand in silence and stare at the desktop as the information from the video sinks in.

“This was all Umbrella’s doing,” Tyrell states plainly. “We’ve been fighting our own company this entire time.”

Carlos shakes his head with disbelief. “My god, Jill knew all along. And she trusted me anyway.”

“There’s no time to waste,” Tyrell says. “Bard mentioned he keeps a sample of the vaccine somewhere here in the office. We’ve got to find it.”

“And do what, take it back to Mikhail just for him to hand it back over to the company?” Carlos snaps.

Tyrell puts a hand to his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Um, guys?” you interrupt. “Didn’t Bard say he recorded this at 11? As in, fifteen minutes ago?”

Carlos looks at you with wide eyes. “Shit. Whoever killed Bard might still be here. We need to get the vaccine and get out. We can worry about what to do with it once we’re somewhere else.”

As if on cue, the light above the door behind the computer turns green, indicating that it is now unlocked. Carlos opens the door and steps inside. It is a small room full of laboratory cabinets. “Maybe it’s in here?” He steps over to the far cabinet and opens the doors. After a moment of rummaging, he comes out with a small vial filled with purple fluid. “Got it.”

“Nice going,” Tyrell says. “Now let’s get out of here.”

The four of you quickly exit Bard’s office and head back the way you came. You can feel a strange heaviness in the air. Something isn’t right, and your hairs stand on end. You wonder if anyone else feels it. You emerge in the main lobby of the hospital and head toward the front doors. Almost out. Tyrell exits first, then Carlos, then you and the creature. Once outside in the cool night air, you breathe a sigh of relief. You’ve never felt such imminent dread, and you’re glad to be out of it.

Or so you thought.

You scream with fear as gunshots fire from somewhere in the darkness. The creature immediately hovers over you, forming a human shield. You can’t see what’s going on from this position, but you can hear Carlos and Tyrell shouting at each other, and then lots of heavy footsteps and more gunfire. Suddenly, there are men everywhere.

“Get on the ground!” shouts a male voice you don’t recognize. “Get on the fucking ground!”

The creature roars furiously as more gunshots fire. You watch as he extends a hand and grabs one of the men with a tentacle, lifting him up high and then slamming him down into the ground so forcefully that it leaves a small crater in the asphalt. He readies the flamethrower with his other hand and begins to pour a steady stream of fire at the oncoming wave of attackers. Several of them get caught in the flames and fall to the ground, writhing in panic as they try to extinguish the flames engulfing their bodies. You look around frantically in search of Carlos and Tyrell, but you can’t tell who is who in all the chaos.

“Get the girl!” you hear another voice shout over the screams, and your stomach drops. What do they want with _you_? You try to keep your breaths steady. You have your invincible creature protecting you. They can’t hurt you.

Suddenly, you hear a horrible sound, almost like a crackling buzz, and the creature roars in immense pain. You turn to see bright sparks of electricity dancing across his body, causing him to convulse uncontrollably. A man nearby is holding an over-sized electroshock device.

“No! Stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs, tears bursting from your eyes in fear and anger. “You’re hurting him! Please, stop!” Without any sense of self-preservation, you charge at the man holding the device. “Sto-“

Someone grabs you by the arm and tackles you to the ground. Your head strikes the asphalt, making your ears ring and your vision spin. You look to the side to see the creature continue to convulse and roar as electricity surges through his body. Eventually he falls to his knees, the surviving men circling him like vultures. Your vision starts to go blurry; whether from your tears or your potential concussion, you are unsure.

“Stop…” you cry quietly. Someone holds a cloth up to your face. All you have time to think about is that you are suddenly very, very tired. And then everything goes black.


	9. Awakening

“I swear to god, if she doesn’t wake up soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“Tell me about it. This has been going on for so long now, I can hear it in my sleep.”

As you begin to come to your senses, you can make out unfamiliar voices that sound as if they are miles away. You are tired, and your head is pounding, and you really wish the voices would shut up. You open your eyes, and it takes a moment for things to come into focus. You are in a small white room filled with white cabinets, white countertops, white chairs, and a white door. Everything you see is white and it emanates an unnerving feeling of sterility. There are no windows, just artificial white lights that are a bit too bright.

You look down to find yourself clothed in a white hospital gown, sitting on a hospital bed with white sheets. There’s an IV in your arm. Without thinking about whether it is helping or harming you, you reach to pull it out. Your hand, however, catches on something before you can move it very far. You look over to see that you are handcuffed to the bed.

“What the fuck?” you murmur, still too disoriented to fall into full-blown panic.

“Oh, thank god, you’re finally awake. Took you long enough.” You recognize this as one of the voices from before. A woman with glasses walks into view from behind the bed, a clipboard in her hand. She is, of course, dressed in a white lab coat and white gloves. The ID tag clipped to her shirt reads “Cheryl”.

“Where am I?” you ask. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe here,” the woman replies with a soft, friendly voice. “You are in the hospital. You’ve got a concussion, a broken nose, and several severe burns, but we’re taking care of all that.” She grabs a stool and pulls it over to the side of your bed so she can sit down close to you. “My name is Dr. Cheryl. What’s your name?” You wonder if you should tell her your real name or not. She must see the hesitation in your eyes, because she smiles as kindly as she can. “It’s alright, you can trust us.”

“Then why am I handcuffed to the bed?”

She just keeps smiling at you. “I said you can trust us. I never said we could trust you. We just rescued you from a zombie epidemic, and we have no idea who you are. We can’t be too careful.” You watch her for any signs of deceit, but she looks completely genuine. Either she’s telling the truth, or she’s a professionally trained liar.

“(Y/n),” you say hesitantly.

Dr. Cheryl nods and jots that down on the clipboard. “Thank you, (y/n). How are you feeling right now?”

“My head hurts,” you reply.

“Well, you do have a concussion, so that’s to be expected,” Dr. Cheryl replies. “Now, I need to ask you a few personal questions. Are you okay with that?”

“Um, sure,” you say.

“What were you doing in Raccoon City on the evening of September 28?”

“I was working. I live there,” you reply.

“Alright. What is your employment situation?”

“I own an antique shop.”

Dr. Cheryl nods and continues to write notes. You listen to the sound of her pen scratching against the paper. “And how did you first become aware of the Nemesis Project?”

You blink blankly. “Uh, the what now?”

She glances up at you, assessing your expression closely. It makes you quite uncomfortable. After a few more moments, she puts the clipboard down on her lap and adjusts her glasses. She waves her hand to signal to someone else in the room who you can’t see. They approach from behind the bed and hand her a manila folder. She opens it and pulls out a photograph, then hands it to you. You take it and examine the picture, and your heart skips a beat. It’s a picture of the creature.

“That is the Nemesis T-type. Just the Nemesis for short.”

“Nemesis,” you whisper, savoring the way it rolls off your tongue. You feel yourself getting slightly emotional. His name is Nemesis. You finally know his name. Dr. Cheryl holds out a hand for you to return the photograph. You just stare blankly at her. You don’t want to give it back. Growing slightly impatient, she reaches out and tugs it from your fingers before shoving it back in the folder. You watch it disappear with dismay.

“How do you know his name? Where is he?” you ask quietly.

“We’ll be the ones asking the questions for now,” Dr. Cheryl says softly, handing the folder back to her unseen assistant. “How, exactly, did you manipulate the Nemesis’ programmed behavior?”

Here we go again. “I offered him food,” you reply.

“I see. Is that all?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Dr. Cheryl sighs and shakes her head. “(Y/n), this will be a lot easier for everyone involved if you just tell the truth.”

“I am telling the truth. I gave him an oatmeal bar. Please tell me where he is. He isn’t dangerous! I mean, he _can_ be, but so can anyone! Please don't-“ You stop dead. Your eyes fall back to her ID tag. It is a simple tag, with only three things. First there is a photograph of herself. Next there is her name. And finally, there is the logo for the Umbrella Corporation.

“Please don't what?” Dr. Cheryl pries.

You glare up at her. “You’re with Umbrella.”

She frowns at you. “(Y/n), if you would just-“

“Where is he!?” you ask again, desperation and anger rising in your voice as you tug at the handcuffs. “What did you do with him!? Give me answers, dammit!”

Dr. Cheryl doesn’t answer. Instead, she stands up from the stool and steps to the side, making room for her previously unseen assistant to take her place on the stool. He is an older man with gray stubble. He, too, is wearing all white, and his ID tag reads “Richards”. He pulls a cart alongside him until it rests by the head of the bed, and you notice him rest a small device on his lap. A voice recorder, maybe?

He clears his throat. “(Y/n), I’m Dr. Richards. This is your last chance to tell us the truth.” His voice isn’t friendly like that of Dr. Cheryl. It is emotionless and stern. “What did you do to manipulate the Nemesis?”

You glare at him. “I told you. I gave him food.”

Dr. Richards stares at you. He then reaches over to the cart of instruments and picks up what looks like a miniature pair of pliers. Before you can stop him, he grabs the hand that is cuffed to the bed and securely grasps your pointer finger. You try to tug your hand away, but his grip along with the handcuffs keep you firmly in place.

“Hold still, please,” he orders.

“W-what are you doing?” you ask.

Dr. Richards clamps the pliers around your fingernail. “Just what needs to be done.” With that, he wrenches the pliers, and the fingernail begins to rip from your skin. You let out a surprised scream as pain ripples through you. You never imagined that one little fingernail could cause such an indescribably excruciating feeling. Tears involuntarily leak from your eyes as you try not to sob.

Dr. Richards looks back up at you. “Let me ask again. How did you do it? Did you do it by altering the NE-alpha parasite? Did you have prior knowledge of the Nemesis Project? Who were you working under?”

You spit in his face.

Dr. Richards wipes the saliva off his face with his sleeve. He wrenches the pliers again, tearing the rest of the nail until it rips completely out of the nailbed. You let out another agonized scream and start to sob.

“If you tell the truth, we can stop all this.” He waits for you to answer, but you can’t manage to form words through your sobbing. Shaking his head, he grabs your middle finger and jams the pliers under its fingernail as well. “We can be here all day. You’ve got nine more fingers and ten more toes. And then we’ll move on to something else.” He begins to pull, slowly this time to draw out the pain as long as possible. Finally, you manage to form words through your sobbing and screaming, completely unable to control yourself.

“Okay! We fucked!”

Dr. Richards stops his assault on your fingernail and looks at you. You’re a sobbing mess. “I’m sorry, what?”

You choke back a few more sobs. “I-I offered him food! And he took the food and ate it! And then we fucked!”

“What do you mean you… fucked?”

“I mean we fucked! We banged! Made love! Mated! Copulated! We fucking had sex! Just please, for the love of all that is holy, put the pliers down!”

Dr. Cheryl looks like she’s about to faint, her face as red as a tomato, and she quickly opens the door and steps out of the room. Dr. Richards, on the other hand, doesn’t show any hint of emotion. He finally removes the pliers from your fingernail, which is now only halfway attached to your finger, and places them back onto the cart.

“Please…” you whisper between sobs. “I just wanna know where he is. Please just tell me if he’s okay. I’m begging you.”

“This is… not what I expected,” Dr. Richards muses as if you are just some science experiment rather than a crying, begging human being. He picks up the recording device on his lap and points it toward his face to speak into it. “Subject claims to have copulated with the Nemesis. We thought we had rectified the tendency to develop a sense of self from the T-103 model, but perhaps the parasite has introduced some unknown variable. I would postulate that the subject's food offering was interpreted as a nuptial gift, triggering an instinctual mating response. The Nemesis thus formed something similar to the pair bond formed between many mated animals, and this bond was enough to cause an override of the Nemesis’ primary directive to hunt S.T.A.R.S. officers.”

You choke back another sob. “He is not an _animal_ ,” you hiss.

Dr. Richards puts down the recorder. “Actually, yes, it is indeed an animal. A parasite, specifically.”

“What?”

“The Nemesis is a bio-organic weapon, or B.O.W., created from a genetically modified human infected with the T-virus and implanted with the NE-alpha parasite, which destroys and replaces the brainstem and takes over all neurological functions. You, my dear, copulated with a parasite piloting a human suit.”

You narrow your eyes angrily. “Well I’ll have you know that that _parasite_ is the most human individual I have ever had the pleasure to know.”

“Hm, you aren’t even off put by this information. How interesting." He speaks into the voice recorder again. "Subject's behavior suggests an emotional attachment to the Nemesis. While there may be an evolutionary basis for the Nemesis bonding with a potential mate, I fail to understand why an otherwise sane human female would reciprocate this mating bond. This phenomenon definitely warrants further study." Dr. Richards sets the recorder down again. "I wonder…” He taps his chin with his finger. “When you copulated with it, did it ejaculate directly into your vaginal canal?”

“Um, excuse me!?” you choke out. “That is none of your fucking business!”

Dr. Richards reaches back toward the pliers. “Actually, I’m quite certain that it is my business.”

You panic. “Fuck, don’t get the pliers. I… fuck. Yeah, uh, he did. Both times.” Your face turns bright red as you stammer through the confession.

Dr. Richards raises an eyebrow. “ _Both_ times? Hm. What dates did you engage in both acts of copulation?”

“The 28th and the 29th.” You hate this. You hate this so much. You just want to punch this stupid doctor in the face.

“Interesting. The ejaculate should still be present in the womb, then. We will have to take a sample in order to determine its compatibility.”

“Compatibility with… what?” you ask.

“With you, of course. You’re a fertile young woman, yes? You haven’t had a tubal ligation, have you? You aren’t on any contraceptives?”

Your eyes bulge. “I’ll have you know that I _am_ on birth control, thank you very much.”

“Ah. Well, it will get out of your system eventually. And then we can try some more tests.”

Your face turns bright red. “You… You are not going to impregnate me for some science experiment, you sick fuck!”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you have much say in the matter,” Dr. Richards states. “I am in charge of this case, and I will perform all the experiments that are necessary for Umbrella to fully understand this unique situation you've forced upon us." He picks up the recorder again. "We will begin immediate development of procedures to test the effects of sexual and emotional bonding on the Nemesis, including potential bonds formed with offspring. Emphasis will be placed on determining how we can prevent this behavior from recurring in future prototypes, or how to purposefully induce certain behaviors to our advantage. Positive results may warrant further study on ways to breed new Tyrants rather than allocating so many resources to cloning and growing them."

“You’re disgusting. You’re a monster,” you spit out. “Fuck you.”

“Well, you would fuck a monster, wouldn’t you?” Dr. Richards says as he switches off the recorder, and for the first time that you’ve seen, he breaks his stoic expression and smirks. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to file all this valuable information you have provided me into a report.” He stands up from the stool. “If you keep being this compliant, maybe we’ll let you see your mate again. Seeing how attached you are, I’m sure you’re eager to copulate again, yes? I’m sure it will be glad to see you too. Maybe it will finally stop making so much god damned noise.”

“Please stop,” you mutter, feeling yourself break more and more with every word that comes out of the cruel doctor’s mouth. You know he’s trying to get to you, and you hate that you’re letting him succeed. “Please, leave me alone.”

Dr. Richards obliges, closing the door behind him as he leaves the room. Your head still hurts. Your fingernails (or lack thereof) hurt too. But your heart hurts the most. You finally know his name. You know what he is. You know where he came from. And now that you finally have all the answers, he’s been taken away from you, and you are left with nothing but fear and confusion and pain and humiliation. You feel so alone. So very, very alone. And all alone, in this cold, sterile, white room, you cry yourself to sleep.


	10. Scientific Repercussions

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been held prisoner by Umbrella. There are no windows or clocks. None of the doctors that tend to you wear watches. Nobody will tell you the time when you ask for it. This, along with the complete lack of visual stimulation in the sterile white room, is enough to drive you to the brink of insanity. Nothing bad has happened to you since your little torture session, but you know this will only last so long. You spend every waking moment anxiously wondering when the next horrible thing will happen. You’re effectively a nervous wreck.

None of the doctors have spoken to you since your interrogation by Dr. Richards, and that’s fine by you. They simply come in to change out your IV, or give you food, or check your vitals, or uncuff you from the bed so you can use the bathroom. At first you refused to eat any of the food they gave you simply out of spite, but then they started force-feeding you, and you reluctantly decided that it would just be easier to accept the food on your own. Your head doesn’t hurt as much anymore and your wounds are healing well, but the alleviated physical pain does little to soothe your mind. When nobody is in the room, you often find yourself crying. You aren’t even sure why you are crying half the time. It has just become an impulse, a psychological need, a single thing over which you still have some semblance of control.

The doctors did, indeed, take a sample of fluids from your womb, which was an extremely uncomfortable and humiliating experience. There was one time you tried asking what the compatibility results were. The doctors just ignored you, as you figured they would. You haven’t bothered to ask them anything else since then, as it is obvious that they aren’t supposed to engage with you.

It is incredibly difficult for you to sleep. For one thing, the doctors never dim the lights in the room, almost as if they are purposefully trying to drive you crazy. But more significantly, what little sleep you manage to get is riddled by horrific nightmares. The most frequent is the one where you watch Nemesis getting electrocuted. You run toward him, but with each step he just gets further away. You scream his name, but no sound comes out. And eventually he falls to his knees, and the electricity burns him up into nothingness like a moth to a flame. Not knowing where he is or what these bastards are doing to him makes you feel sick. You just want to see him again.

Sometimes you think about Carlos and Tyrell, and you wonder if Umbrella has them locked up somewhere too. You wonder what happened to the vaccine. You wonder what happened to Raccoon City. You also think about Jill from time to time, wondering what she is doing right now, completely unaware of your plight. You hope that at least she is happy and safe in this cold, cruel, sick world.

You don’t suspect anything out of the ordinary when the door to your room opens. Doctors are constantly coming in and out. Your blood runs cold, however, when a familiar voice speaks to you, the first human voice you have heard in what feels like an eternity.

“Good morning, (y/n). Or should I say good afternoon? Or perhaps good evening? You wouldn’t really know, would you?”

You turn and glare at Dr. Richards. “What do you want?”

“I’ve got some news for you,” Dr. Richards says. “We are going to run an experiment today, and you get to be a part of it.”

“What experiment?” you ask warily.

“Ah, wouldn’t you like to know? How about we make it a surprise?” For a scientist who shouldn’t want to confound his variables, he sure does like going out of his way to distress you.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Well, I have a feeling you’ll like this one.” He motions for two armed guards to enter the room. One of them uncuffs you from the bed, and you rub your wrist. “If you would please follow me, we will head to the testing area.” You hesitate, but one of the guards prods your back with the end of his gun, so you reluctantly decide to follow.

You walk down several corridors, and you try to mentally map the layout of the facility in case you manage to escape. Unfortunately, the route is complicated, and everything looks the same, so you soon lose track of where you are. You become aware of a horrendous sound echoing throughout the facility. It is unlike anything you have ever heard before.

“What is that noise?” you ask.

“You’ll see,” Dr. Richards replies cryptically, and you huff.

Eventually Dr. Richards and the guards lead you to a large metal door. The sound is much louder here, and you can only assume it is coming from inside the room. “We’re here,” Dr. Richards declares. He pulls a keycard out of his pocket and swipes it, causing the door to unlock with a quiet beep. It slides open, and your ears are immediately assaulted by the loudest, most dreadful sound you have ever heard. Your hands shoot up to your ears in an attempt to protect your precious eardrums from bursting.

Dr. Richards steps into the room, seemingly unfazed by the noise, and you follow closely behind with the two guards. The doctor turns and swipes the keycard again to close the door behind you. Meanwhile you look toward the other end of the room and find yourself staring at the source of the abhorrent sound. It is simultaneously the most wonderful thing and the most horrible thing you could imagine.

There is a thick metal frame covered with equally thick metal harnesses, and detained by those harnesses is Nemesis, restrained at the wrists and ankles such that he can hardly move. He strains against the thick metal, every muscle bulging from exertion. His head is thrown back and his jaws are parted wide, letting out that ghastly sound of pain and anger and confusion and sorrow. You’ve never heard him make such an awful sound. You’ve never heard him so _loud_. Normally you would describe his voice as a roar, but this is more like a deep scream.

“Nemesis!” you shout as you push yourself forward in an attempt to run across the room. One of the guards grabs you firmly by the arm, preventing you from going too far. You struggle against his grip, desperate to go comfort Nemesis, but you can’t get away from his strong grasp in your weakened state.

As soon as Nemesis hears your voice, the screaming miraculously stops. He stares at you, and after a moment of silence, he begins grunting with frustration as he strains fruitlessly at the metal harnesses in an attempt to get to you. A tentacle shoots out of his hand toward you but stops mere inches from where you stand, just barely out of his reach.

“Incredible,” Dr. Richards coos. “Days of nonstop screaming peaking at 145 decibels, and that’s the first time it has shut up since it got here.” He turns to you and watches as you struggle against the guard holding onto you. “And look at you, being so feisty. You really want it, don’t you? I'm sorry to say that there will be no physical interaction between you two today. But don't worry, you're going to be with us for a long time. There will be plenty of opportunities for more _intimate_ experiments later.”

“Fuck you!” you spit. “Fuck you! Fuck all of you! Fuck Umbrella!”

Ignoring your outburst, Dr. Richards motions toward a chair a few feet away, and the guard drags you over. You try to struggle, but your efforts are futile. He pushes you down into the chair and grabs your arm, bringing it through a leather strap that he then tightens around your wrist, He does the same with your other hand until you are bound helplessly to the chair. Dr. Richards takes a seat on a stool beside you, and you notice the familiar cart of torture instruments from before. You strain at the leather straps in a desperate attempt to get away.

“What are those for!?” you ask in horror. “I already told you everything you wanted to know! And I’ll tell you anything else you want to know! I’ll be honest, I swear!”

“Ah, see, I think you’ve already forgotten that this is an experiment,” Dr. Richards replies. He points to the wall above the door you just came through, and you now notice a viewing window about fifteen feet off the ground. On the other side is a small room filled with scientists, all taking notes and examining monitors as they watch the events transpiring in the testing chamber. Dr. Richards then moves his finger to point to Nemesis. “Do you see that device on the Nemesis’ chest? That is a power limiter. It prevents its body from mutating out of control. We’ve set up a monitor that wirelessly measures the activity of the power limiter. We are interested in seeing how the Nemesis’ mutation capacity may be impacted by acute psychological stress, even in the absence of physical stress.” He casually picks up the familiar pliers and grazes them against your thumbnail. “And you, my dear, are perfect for delivering acute psychological stress. Make sure to scream nice and loud now, okay? We want it to know just how much pain its beloved mate is in so that we get some good data.”

He begins to pry the nail from the skin. Your eyes focus on Nemesis struggling viciously against his restraints on the other side of the room. You refuse to let him see you suffering. Mustering all the strength in your mind, body, and soul, you seal your lips shut and don’t make a sound. Dr. Richards stops, and you can briefly see a flash of rage in his eyes before he reestablishes his typical stoic complexion. With a final tug, the nail is gone, and although your struggle is evident on your face, you still maintain your silence.

“Very impressive. You didn't even last a second the last time we did this. No matter though. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.” Dr. Richards replaces the pliers onto the cart and instead retrieves a small scalpel. “Or, in this case, more than one way to skin a human.”

He makes a small incision on your lower arm. He inserts the scalpel into the incision parallel to your arm, then begins to slice forward and peel away the skin, flaying you. You jam your eyes shut and clench your jaw so hard that you swear your teeth are going to shatter. A few tears stream down your cheeks. You feel warm blood trickle down your arm. Still, all he manages to get out of you is a quiet whimper.

Dr. Richards clicks at you. “Look at you. You’re so strong for your mate, aren’t you? You don’t want to make it upset. Such devotion, it almost makes me emotional.” You doubt anything could make this man emotional.

“You’re damn right,” you say through pursed lips. “I’ll die before I scream for you.”

Dr. Richards places the bloody scalpel back on the cart. “Well, I didn’t want to have to resort to this, seeing as how you are such a flawless specimen. But I think,” he says, picking up a small knife, “that we’ll just have to make some sacrifices. Now tell me, which finger is your favorite?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you whisper.

“I’ll pick for you, then.” He places the knife against your pinky finger on your left hand. “Did you know that your pinky finger contributes 50% of your grip strength?” Without giving you any time to prepare, he chops off your pinky finger as easily as one would cut through a carrot.

Your lungs ache and beg for you to release a scream, but you resist. You throw your head back and forth against the chair and kick your legs, on the verge of hyperventilating from the pain. More and more tears coat your face. You can feel the blood pouring from your hand in little spurts with each pump of your heart. Even without using your voice, you are clearly exhibiting that you are in excruciating pain, and Nemesis reacts accordingly. He lets out a threatening growl and snaps his jaws as he throws himself against the restraints.

Dr. Richards practically gawks at you. Perhaps he is unsatisfied by the level of Nemesis’ reaction, or perhaps he is unsatisfied by his inability to break you, but either way he isn’t getting what he wants. “Alright, now you’re just being ridiculous,” he scolds. “And I’ve had just about enough of it.” He jumps to his feet and grabs your face with one of his hands, squeezing your cheeks as hard as he can to force your jaws open. He turns to the two guards. “One of you, get over here and hold this bitch’s mouth open for me so I can cut out her tongue. If she’s not gonna scream, she’s not gonna speak, either.” One of the men approaches and Dr. Richards passes your jaws over to him. He then reaches into your mouth and pinches your tongue between his thumb and pointer finger, pulling it out of your mouth as far as he can. “Such a shame your mate will never get to hear your voice again, isn’t it?” he hisses. “Oh, and if you somehow manage to make it through this one too, you’ll never get to see your mate again either, because I’ll be going for your eyes next.” He brings the knife to the base of your tongue.

He barely even cuts through the surface of the muscle, and you break. You let out the most horrified shriek you’ve ever made in your life. You start sobbing uncontrollably as you writhe underneath the leather harnesses, screaming and crying and begging for mercy, covered in tears and blood and sweat. Fingernail? Whatever. Skin? Acceptable. Finger? You've got nine more to spare. But tongue? _And eyes_? Absolutely fucking not.

Your sounds of distress, of course, trigger exactly the response Dr. Richards was hoping for. Nemesis writhes in the confines of the metal harnesses, but instead of a simple growl, he lets out an incredible roar that literally shakes the facility. You’ve heard Nemesis roar from pleasure, you’ve heard him roar from pain, you’ve heard him scream from sorrow. But never have you heard him roar like this.

This is a roar of unbridled fury.

Dr. Richards lets go of your tongue. “Finally! Results!” he yells. He turns toward Nemesis and throws out his arms victoriously. “Go on! Scream to the heavens! Shake the very foundations of this world with your fury! Push beyond the very limit of your body and mind!” A sadistic grin finally breaks through his stoic exterior, and if you weren’t so occupied freaking out over almost losing your tongue, you would think he’s gone crazy.

Dr. Richards’ grin, however, quickly disappears.

There is a huge bang from the power limiter on Nemesis’ chest. The metal harnesses creak precariously, and with a metallic groan, they break off from the metal frame and clatter to the floor. Nemesis falls from the frame onto his hands and knees. With speed unlike any you’ve seen, he launches forward, eye locked on one thing and one thing only.

You’ve watched a lot of gore in horror movies, but none of it could have prepared you for the scene about to play out. Dr. Richards grabs one of the guards by the arm and gives him a shove toward Nemesis to create a diversion. Nemesis grabs for the doctor but is instead met by the sacrificial guard. The guard empties his assault rifle’s ammunition into Nemesis’ abdomen, but he might as well be shooting a metal brick. Nemesis lifts the guard in his massive hands and literally rips him apart appendage by appendage. You take in the man’s agonized screams, which are immediately cut off when Nemesis smashes his skull in a single fist. Finally, he crushes the torso and wrings it like a wet towel. You feel the guard’s warm blood splatter against your face and watch as it coats the walls and the floor. How easily you forgot that Nemesis was designed to kill, nothing more and nothing less. This is his element.

While Nemesis is distracted by his prey, Dr. Richards swipes the keycard and opens the metal door. He slips through and swipes the card again to close the barrier between him and the B.O.W. he just royally pissed off. By now Nemesis has discarded the remains of the guard’s body and turned to his true target. A tentacle flies toward the doctor and wraps around his arm, yanking him back toward the room just as the door begins to shut. An awful crunch resounds from the doctor’s arm getting caught in the door, severing it just below the shoulder. A muffled scream resonates from the other side of the door, and Nemesis throws the detached appendage to the ground with an infuriated roar at the fact that his target escaped.

The remaining guard backs against the metal door while shooting at Nemesis’ head in a laughable attempt to get the situation under control. Nemesis quickly closes the distance between himself and the man and slams him up against the metal, pushing the man into the door harder and harder until the pressure makes his ribcage shatter and his chest cavity practically explode.

Just when you think this is finished, Nemesis turns menacingly toward the viewing window. The scientists are all scrambling to record data and call for backup. They think they’re safe fifteen feet off the ground. A stupid assumption, really. Nemesis crouches down, then springs up and scales the wall, smashing through the window with another furious roar. One by one, he dispatches the scientists using various gruesome strategies, crushing and impaling and ripping and just generally obliterating every individual within reach as they scream. When he’s finally cleared out the room, his chest is heaving with rage, and it looks like someone sprayed the walls with a firehose filled with blood.

He turns and jumps back down into the testing chamber. He reaches his hands up to the broken remains of the power limiter still attached to his chest. Gripping the body of the limiter in one hand and the tube in the other, he violently tears the device from his body with a sickening squelch, leaving behind a bloody mess of mutilated tissue and missing skin. He throws the useless limiter to the floor and walks over to you as calmly as ever, as if he didn’t just violently butcher a few dozen people and then rip a machine out of his chest. You watch quietly as he releases your hands from their leather harnesses.

Your entire body trembles as you slowly stand up from the chair. You’re in shock, there’s no doubt about that. You take a step forward. Then another. And then you fall to your knees and start to sob harder than you’ve ever sobbed before. You’re soaked in blood that is and isn’t your own, and you’re missing a finger, and you almost lost your tongue, and you just watched people get gruesomely murdered, and you just want to cry.

Nemesis gets down on his knees next to you and hovers his body over you protectively, wrapping his arms around your shaking form with an unprecedented tenderness while purring comfortingly. You wrap your arms tightly around him in return, sobbing hard into his chest. You should be afraid of him, but you aren't. You should be appalled by him, but you aren't. He just slaughtered an entire room of people. Surely, your feelings for him are clouding your rationality, but you don't care. You don’t care that he’s covered in blood and guts and god knows what else. You don’t care that he’s a bioweapon designed to kill people. You don’t care that he has the mind of a parasite. You don’t care that his attachment to you may be nothing more than an instinctual behavior. You cried for him for days, and he screamed for you for days. He’s yours, and you’re his, and that’s simply the fact of the matter, and you don’t care what anyone has to say about it. Especially not the Umbrella operatives who are now rightfully splattered across the room.

The two of you sit on the bloody floor for a while. You cry until you run out of tears, and then you cry some more. Nemesis doesn’t move at all the entire time, silently protecting you as you let out everything that has been festering in you since you first woke up in this god-forsaken place. When you finally stop crying, he lifts a hand and gently strokes your hair. You feel warm. You feel safe. You might even say you feel loved.

“Nemesis,” you whisper fondly.

“(Y/n).”

You make a weird noise somewhere between a sob and a hiccup. “Did… did you just say my name?” you ask, and he responds by wrapping himself around you tighter. It sounds so strange in his deep, rough, inhuman voice. But it’s the most wonderful sound you have ever heard.

Your mind drifts to the facility that surrounds you and the Umbrella operatives that walk these halls. They wanted to take this away from you. They still want to take this away from you, and you know your struggles are far from over. But now that you are reunited, you might just stand a chance out there, and you make a promise to yourself.

You two are going to burn this corporation to the fucking ground.


	11. Revelations

If there’s one thing Jill hates as much as Umbrella, it’s the feeling of helplessness. And right now, being escorted down an unknown hallway flanked by armed Umbrella operatives with no idea where she is, helplessness is an understatement. What she wouldn’t do for a gun right now, if just to restore some small sense of power.

A staticky transmission emits from one of the escort’s radios. He quickly retrieves the communication device to receive the incoming message. Jill strains her ears to listen in; any information could be useful in escaping this prison. The beginning of the transmission is utter chaos. Jill can maybe make out some shouts and gunshots, but even that much is difficult to decipher with certainty. Finally, a panicked voice comes into focus.

“I don’t care whoever the hell is getting this transmission, just get someone with the right credentials down here to test chamber B and get this fucking door closed! We have a code white, approximately 10 men down, established containment protocol has been compromised! Fuck!” There is a loud thud. “12 men down. If someone doesn’t get down here right the fuck now then-“ The transmission ends in a loud scream before getting cut off.

“Great,” the escort mutters before turning to his companion on the other side of Jill. “Come on, it’s only a few halls down. Let’s go get this shit under control.”

“What about her?” the other man asks, gesturing to Jill. “Don’t we need to get her back to the prisoners’ wing?”

“Man, just bring her with us. All we have to do is get a damn door closed.”

“Alright, whatever.” The man points his gun threateningly at Jill. “Don’t try anything stupid.”

Jill smiles with fake innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

You knew that the moment of peace wouldn’t last. As you sit there with Nemesis, the two of you wrapped around each other, you can feel him tense up. The sound of several dozen footsteps echoes down the hallway outside. You suppose it was only a matter of time before the higher ups got word of the incident and sent reinforcements, but you wish this could have lasted a little bit longer.

The door opens and Umbrella operatives stream into the room, assault rifles loaded and at the ready, and Nemesis unwraps himself from your grasp and springs to his feet. Gunfire once again fills the room, and you duck down and cover your head to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Nemesis lashes out and grabs the first person within grabbing range, then rips the man in half without hesitation, paying no mind to the oncoming shower of bullets.

Suddenly a familiar sound fills the room, and your heart drops. You look up to see that the electroshock weapon from outside the hospital has made its return. The man wielding it has managed to approach Nemesis from behind while he was busy dispatching the men shooting at him. Just like in your memories, and just like in your nightmares, you watch with horror as electricity pulses through Nemesis’ body, effectively incapacitating him.

No. Not again. You’ve had it with this bullshit.

You let loose the most enraged battle cry you can muster and lunge toward the man holding the weapon. He seems shocked by your sudden boldness, and even more shocked when you manage to knock him off balance. He collapses to the ground with you on top of him, letting go of the weapon in the process. It falls to the floor with a loud clank, releasing Nemesis from its electric restraint.

“Leave! Us! Alone! You! Son! Of! A! Bitch!” With each word that spits out of your mouth, you enunciate it by throwing your fist into the face of the man underneath you with a strength you never knew you had until his face is unrecognizable. Nemesis picks up the weapon and snaps it in half like a twig, sending electronic components flying in every direction.

“I don’t care whoever the hell is getting this transmission, just get someone with the right credentials down here to test chamber B and get this fucking door closed!” you hear someone yell above the screaming and gunfire and general chaos. You turn to see that one of the men has retreated to the far side of the room and is speaking into his radio. “We have a code white, approximately 10 men down, established containment protocol has been compromised!” Nemesis picks up two other men, one in each hand, and smashes their skulls together with a loud crunch before throwing the corpses toward the man with the radio. “Fuck!” the man yells as he ducks, and the bodies hit the wall behind him. “12 men down. If someone doesn’t get down here right the fuck now then-“ His call for help doesn’t last much longer, as Nemesis shoots out a tentacle from his hand and grabs the man around the neck. He screams and drops the radio before Nemesis catapults him across the room and he hits the far wall with a sickening crack.

It is at this point that you realize that Nemesis has eliminated every man in the room with the exception of one (and the one that you punched in the face, you’ll gladly take credit for that one). Nemesis approaches the last man standing and grabs him around the waist, knocking his assault rifle to the ground and raising him up to eye level with a sinister glare. The man just smirks as he reaches for his spare sidearm. You almost want to laugh. A sidearm isn’t going to-

“Eat shit, motherfucker.”

And then he points the gun at you and shoots.

* * *

The two armed men walk down the hallway with Jill following reluctantly between them. She notices a large entrance up ahead. Blood is splattered on the hallway floor, seemingly originating from the inside of the room. Everything is deathly silent, and Jill doesn’t like it at all. Where are all the screams and gunshots from the radio transmission?

“Damn, it’s quiet,” one of the men says. “Hope it didn’t get out already.”

“We would have seen it,” the other man says.

“I guess. Let’s just get the door closed.” He pulls out a keycard and approaches the door. Then, just as he is about to swipe it, a tentacle rushes out from inside the room and grabs the man by the leg. He drops the keycard with a shout before being swiftly dragged inside the room, where his screams are quickly cut off.

“What the fuck?” the other man says, readying his gun. Jill is quick to take note of this distraction. She runs up to the man from behind and grabs him in a chokehold, cutting off his airways until he eventually loses consciousness and falls limp against her. She releases him and grabs his assault rifle, then retrieves the keycard dropped by the other man. A wave of relief washes over her from this regained sense of autonomy.

Jill turns to retreat down the hallway and find her way out of here, but then she recalls the strange tentacle that had reached out from the room to grab that man. It possesses some vague sense of familiarity, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. She’s seen so many biological abominations in her day, she isn’t surprised she can’t distinctly remember every single one of them. Still, something about this familiarity feels different. She doesn’t necessarily feel threatened by it, just an overwhelming feeling of curiosity.

She stops halfway down the hallway and turns back to face the room. Maybe she should check it out, just to make sure it isn’t something important? Besides, if she doesn’t deal with it now, it may come back to bite her in the ass later. Whatever it is, surely, she can handle it. She’s handled worse, after all. With utmost caution and gun at the ready, Jill quietly approaches the entrance to the room and peaks inside.

The room looks like the aftermath of an absolute bloodbath. Blood is splattered all over the walls and puddling up on the floor, accented by various Umbrella corpses and unidentifiable body parts. Sitting on his knees in the middle of the carnage is a familiar creature clad in leather. He is cradling something small in his arms.

Jill gasps with realization. “(Y/n)!” She drops the rifle and runs over, not caring how the creature might react. Thankfully he seems to recognize Jill from before, as he simply glances up at her approach. The look on his face is unreadable, and Jill prepares herself for the worst. However, upon getting closer, she sees that you are still breathing and that your eyes are still open. Her brief feeling of relief is halted when she notices you grasping at a huge splotch of blood soaking through the clothes around your stomach.

“Jill?” you whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” she replies. “What is _he_ doing here? What happened to you?”

“Umbrella ambushed us outside of Spencer Memorial Hospital,” you explain. “They pulled out my fingernails and they cut off my finger and they locked him up and made him watch and then he broke free and his power limiter exploded and he killed everybody and then someone shot me in the stomach and now I don’t know what’s gonna happen and I-” You break off into a pained bout of coughing.

Jill looks taken aback. “Okay, just calm down. Don’t talk too much, you need to conserve your energy.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe this is happening. Fucking Nicholai…”

“What about Nicholai?” you ask, surprised to hear his name.

“This is all because of that bastard,” Jill explains. “When the subway got to Fox Park Station, Umbrella was waiting for us there. They took Mikhail and I into custody. Nicholai was working behind our backs the whole time. I bet he’s the one that called Umbrella in to abduct you and… and… what about Carlos? And Tyrell? What about that Bard guy and his vaccine? Where are they?”

“Bard is dead, Umbrella killed him,” you explain. “Carlos and Tyrell were with me when we were ambushed, so they probably got taken too. And Umbrella probably got the vaccine from them.”

“Shit.” Jill shakes her head. “This is bad.”

“Jill?” you whisper. “I don’t want to die. Please don’t let me die.”

Jill looks incredibly pained by your words. “You aren’t gonna die on me. You aren’t gonna die on any of us, especially not him.” She glances up at the creature with a solemn smile.

“Nemesis,” you say.

“What?”

“That’s his name,” you clarify. “Umbrella made him. He’s a bio-organic weapon, I guess.”

“Ah. Well then, Nemesis and I are going to get you out of here, okay?" The oddity of this statement does not elude Jill. Nemesis was just trying to kill her an unknown number of days ago, and now she is declaring a team-up with him. She isn't about to argue, though; the evidence of what he is capable of doing to his enemies is presently coating every surface of the room. "You’re going to be fine; you just have to hang in there.”

“I’ll try.”

Jill nods. “Alright. First things first, we need to find Carlos, Tyrell, and Mikhail, assuming they aren’t already dead. We arrived here in a helicopter and entered the building in a downward direction, so once we’ve found everybody, we’ll need to head back upward. We can steal a chopper from there.” You marvel at Jill’s ability to stay collected and plan under pressure.

“Maybe we should split up? Umbrella will be looking for Nemesis. You’d probably be better off on your own.”

Jill frowns. “I don’t know, you’re in pretty bad shape. Maybe it would be best if we stuck together.”

“Nemesis will keep me safe; you go find the others,” you insist.

“He wasn’t able to keep Umbrella from abducting you,” Jill argues.

“That’s because they had this thing… it was like a big taser? It’s destroyed now, they don’t stand a chance against him without it.”

Jill sighs. “Well, if you’re so certain you’ll be fine, I suppose we can split up. But you have to promise that you’ll leave the searching and rescuing to me. You two head directly to the top of the facility and wait for us to meet you there.” She scavenges around the massacred bodies in the room until she retrieves two radios. After adjusting them to communicate with each other, she hands one to you. “Here, take this. You can contact me if anything goes wrong, and I’ll contact you when I find everybody.”

You take the radio and nod. “Okay, sounds like a plan. Be careful out there, okay?”

“Only if you do the same. I’ll see you in a bit.” She looks up at Nemesis. “Keep her safe.” With that, she turns and heads back out of the room, picking up the assault rifle she dropped along the way.

Once Jill is out of sight, you turn to look up at Nemesis. You recall what had happened immediately after you had been shot. It had taken a moment for both you and Nemesis to realize that you had been mortally wounded. You honestly had been in too much shock to feel the pain right away and only realized what had happened when you looked down to see blood pooling into the fabric of your hospital gown. Upon coming to the same realization, Nemesis had squeezed the perpetrator’s abdomen so hard that his guts started to ooze out of his mouth. Nemesis had then thrown the worthless body to the floor and run over to you. You remember him scooping you up into his arms and holding you against his chest, then falling to his knees. You could swear he was trembling. He had failed to protect you. Never had you seen anyone so emotionally shattered.

It is at this point that it really dawns upon you just how human he is. He has human needs. He has human desires. He has human emotions. His bond with you _must_ be something more than just instinct, you’re sure of it. You wonder, in that moment that you had given him the oatmeal bar all that time ago, if that had been the first time someone had shown him any form of kindness, any form of humanity. Existence has been so cruel and unforgiving to him. He was created solely to be used, a weapon never meant to be humanized. You want to show him that humanity isn’t just a bunch of evil people with guns and electroshock weapons that need to be brutally killed. You want to show him all the wonderful things humanity has to offer, all the selflessness and beauty and love.

“You’re going to get me out of here,” you whisper to him. “And I’m going to get you out of here, too. We’re going to get each other out of here. I promise.” Nemesis pulls you tighter against him in acknowledgement. He then pushes himself to his feet and heads out of the room, leaving bloody footprints in his wake, rage rekindled in his gaze.

You are determined to live. For yourself. For Jill. For Nemesis.


	12. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! You may have noticed a few technical changes alongside this chapter update. First, I’ve increased the final chapter total by one. The chapter you are about to read wasn’t in my original outline for the story, but wonderful reader/commenter DeadlyNighshade97 made a suggestion that I felt really added to the realism of the situation at hand, not to mention I think you all deserve a little break after the shitstorm that has been the last several chapters (and the shitstorm that will be the next several chapters to come, hehe.).  
>   
> Second, you may have noticed that this fic is now part of a series. I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a continuation for a while, and after how much fun I’ve been having with this fic, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna happen. So yeah, keep an eye out for that!  
>   
> Also, I just want to add that every kudos, bookmark, and subscription gives me a little burst of joy, and every comment literally makes me stop everything that I’m doing to read it ten times over. This is the first time I’ve ever shared my content online and gotten consistent feedback, and it has made each day exponentially brighter. Thank you so much to everyone who goes out of their way to comment, especially all you folks who comment on every flipping chapter. You may not realize it, but your words really make a difference.

You do your best to apply constant pressure to the gunshot wound in your stomach as Nemesis carries you through the winding halls. The shock you experienced in the testing chamber is beginning to wear off, and the full extent of the pain is settling in. Between the pain, the blood loss, and the blinding white lights lining the ceiling, you are much too disoriented to pay any attention to where you and Nemesis are going. You wish you could just close your eyes and take a nap, but something tells you that is the worst possible thing to do right now.

You pray that Jill is okay, wherever she is now. You know she has a gun and a keycard, and you know she is a formidable opponent who can look out for herself, but you can’t help but worry. She doesn’t have a giant bulletproof bodyguard like you do, and she could easily be outnumbered if she ran into a large group. You just hope that she finds Carlos, Tyrell, and Mikhail soon. Safety in numbers, after all.

Occasionally you run into a group of frantic Umbrella operatives, and from the looks of it you assume that word of your escape has already spread across the entire facility. Even though you are certain that Nemesis wishes to rip every one of them limb from limb, he has instead adopted a stealth approach, ducking into rooms to avoid being spotted. You suppose this is the best way to proceed; with you in his arms, you’d certainly get injured further if he were to engage in combat. Sometimes, however, you two are spotted before you can hide. Nemesis has shifted you into a one-arm carry, freeing up his other hand to eliminate these threats when necessary. You don’t know why they still bother to shoot at him, seeing as how that hasn’t worked out for the last several dozen people who tried. Luckily none of the bullets have hit you; you don’t think you’ll survive another hit.

Footsteps sound from around the corner, and Nemesis steps into the closest room to get out of sight, closing the door quietly behind him. While he listens for the guards to pass, your eyes scan the room, stopping on a white box hanging on the wall. If it is what you think it is, you just might get out of here alive. You tug at Nemesis’ coat to get his attention, and he looks down at you. “Put me down for a second please,” you whisper. He gives you a concerned look before gently lowering you to the ground. As soon as you put your weight back on your feet, your knees give out, but he catches you and helps you sit on the floor. Dread overcomes you at the realization that you are more lightheaded than you anticipated; you’re losing a lot of blood.

You weakly raise your hand to point at the white box, desperate for whatever it contains. Nemesis gets the message. He retrieves the box and hands it down to you, and you open it with a click to reveal just what you had been hoping for: a first aid kit. After rummaging through the contents, you finally find the roll of bandaging you so desperately need. Deciding to deal with your missing finger first, you wrap the bandaging around your hand, covering the wound to slow the bleeding. Next is your forearm that was unceremoniously skinned with the scalpel. You wrap this wound as well, sighing with relief as the exposed muscle disappears under the bandaging. You didn’t like being able to see what’s underneath your skin like that. You feel Nemesis’ worried gaze on you as you work, and it makes you feel a little better knowing that he’s here.

Your final objective is to dress the gunshot wound on your stomach, but you suspect that will be trickier. You reach behind yourself to untie your hospital gown only to recoil with pain at the drastic movement. Nemesis grunts with concern and gets down on his knees beside you, examining you closely. You hold out the bandaging with a shaky hand. “I need you to wrap the wound,” you say quietly. You wonder if he even knows how to do that. He was made to hurt people, not heal them.

Nonetheless, he takes the bandaging from you and reaches around your body to untie the gown. Your body shivers as he carefully pulls the gown down from your shoulders, exposing your torso to the cold air. He pauses and stares at you for a moment, his eye scanning over your bare chest. You’re certain you would be blushing if you had the blood to spare; this is the first time he’s seen you without your clothes on. Still, he seems to understand that there is a time and a place, and now is not the time nor the place. His gaze lowers to the gunshot wound in your stomach, and he lets out a low grumble of discontent. Wasting no more time, he begins to wrap the bandaging around your body. It amazes you that he is even capable of handling you so gently. You get chills every time his fingers brush against your skin; he almost seems to be doing it deliberately.

When the wound is wrapped to his satisfaction, Nemesis pulls the gown back over your shoulders and ties it shut. He goes to move away from you, but you quickly reach out to hold him in place. He gives you an inquisitive grunt.

“Can we just stay here for a moment?” you ask softly. You know it probably isn’t smart to just sit here. You need to reach the top of the facility, and you need to do it before you succumb to your injuries. At the same time, every part of you aches for just a few minutes of respite in this dark, quiet room, a few minutes where you don’t have to worry about running away and getting shot at.

Even without you explaining yourself aloud, Nemesis seems to understand that you need to take a break. He adjusts himself to sit comfortably on the floor, then carefully picks you up and holds you against him. You rest into his body with a content sigh as he runs his fingers through your hair to soothe you. It’s almost enough to distract you from your pain. Almost. You want to wrap your arms around him, lift your hands to his face, but it hurts to move too much, so you simply let your body relax.

“I missed you,” you murmur. He caresses the side of your face with a quiet purr, and you lean into his touch. It astounds you how quickly he picked up these affectionate gestures. You recall when you spontaneously embraced him after he saved you from burning alive; he simply froze under your touch as if he didn’t understand what you were trying to do. Then he held your hand, you rested on his lap, you caressed his face, he embraced you; he is a violent being by nature, but you somehow managed to conjure up a more gentle side, a more human side that nobody would have thought existed otherwise.

You feel stupid that you thought you could take this corporation down, even with Nemesis on your side. This place is massive, there are infinitely more of them than there are of you, and you are nothing more than a fragile target slowing Nemesis down by requiring his constant protection. You’ve been fooling yourself into thinking you have power when in reality you’ve just been swept along by particularly strange circumstances creating the illusion of control.

You’ve tried hard to not think too much about the future, but in this moment, it comes crashing to the forefront of your mind. As you see it, there are three potential outcomes to this situation you’ve found yourself in. Perhaps the worst possible outcome is that you simply won’t make it. You don’t want to die, Nemesis doesn’t want you to die, and hell, even Umbrella probably wants to keep you alive for their own nefarious purposes. Despite this, if you manage to avoid recapture long enough but also fail to escape in a timely manner, it is inevitable that you’ll bleed out somewhere in these halls.

Outcome two is that Umbrella will manage to get their act together and take you down before you can escape. You try to convince yourself that this wouldn’t be as bad as dying, but there is always such a thing as a fate worse than death. They’ve already tortured you physically and mentally, and you doubt they’ll treat you any better after the collateral damage caused by your little escape attempt. You don’t want them to hurt you anymore. You don’t want them to hurt Nemesis anymore. You don’t want them to breed you just so that they can hurt whoever – or whatever - results from _that_.

The best-case scenario is that you somehow manage to escape with your life, and hopefully with the lives of your allies as well. Even if this scenario plays out, you know you’ll still have plenty of struggles to face. You aren’t sure when you came to this conclusion, but you have made up your mind to stay with Nemesis when this is all over. You’ve grown so attached to him that you simply can’t imagine a satisfying future without him in the picture. Unfortunately, this narrows down your options significantly. Where can you go where nobody will find out about him? Will he even be happy there? His entire existence is fueled by killing and violence, and he has always had some goal, some destination; what will happen when you strip that away?

You glance up to see that Nemesis is looking back down at you worriedly, and you smile to assure him that you’re alright. His face used to fill you with horror, but now it fills you with that familiar comforting warmth. When you first saw him from that alleyway in the city, you never would have expected things would end up like this. You’re determined to survive, but you can’t know the future. If you are to die here, at least you can take these memories of him with you. At least you can know that you made some small difference to someone, that there was at least one person who cared about you until the bitter end. At least he will be there to comfort you.

Now that your wounds are wrapped and you’ve taken a few minutes to decompress from the traumatic conditions outside the room, you feel slightly invigorated. You aren’t about to get up and start walking around on your own by any means, but you feel like you can at least keep your wits about you for a while. Perhaps it’s time to get going again. You open your mouth to tell Nemesis you’re ready to continue, but you pause at the sound of frantic footsteps outside. It doesn’t sound like a group.

Suddenly, the door to the room opens. A single man enters, but he isn’t dressed like the Umbrella employees. He immediately closes the door behind him and places an ear to the door, apparently not noticing the other two individuals already present. You scan over his face, and your eyes widen with realization. Nemesis raises a hand, likely to dispose of the intruder with a tentacle, but you quickly grab his arm and pull it back.

“Mikhail?” you say.

The U.B.C.S. leader spins on his heels to face you. You’re lucky he is unarmed; surely, he would have shot you for being stupid enough to surprise him like that. The panicked expression on his face soon softens into a look of recognition. “(Y/n)? What are you doing in this place?” he asks in his familiar accent. His gaze darts from the open first aid kit to your bloody hospital gown. “You are injured!”

“There’s no time to explain everything, we just need to get out of here. I ran into Jill, she told me everything. Right now, she’s searching for Carlos and Tyrell. We’re all going to meet up at the top of the facility and escape.” Just this brief explanation leaves you feeling drained. Jill was right that you shouldn’t talk too much.

Mikhail shakes his head. “They got Carlos and Tyrell too? Those bastards…”

“How did you get away?”

“I snuck away to hide in here while the guards were distracted. Something about a rogue B.O.W. on the loose. I assume that is you two, yes?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” you say, somewhat proud that you two are singlehandedly causing enough commotion to allow prisoners to literally sneak away from their guards.

“You said you are planning an escape?” Mikhail continues.

You nod. “Care to join us?”

“That sounds better than sticking around for one of my own coworkers to kill me,” Mikhail replies. He frowns and shakes his head. “I swear my loyalty to this company, and they repay me with imprisonment and death. Unbelievable.”

You grab the radio Jill gave you and attempt to call her. “Jill, come in. It’s (y/n). Do you copy?”

“I hear you loud and clear, (y/n). What’s going on?” You are relieved to hear her alive and well.

“We found Mikhail,” you explain. “We’re taking him to the top of the facility with us.”

“Thank god, finally some good news. Good work. I’m in the prisoners’ wing now, so I should find Carlos and Tyrell soon. We’ll meet you at the top.”

“Sounds good. Good luck out there.”

“Same to you.”

You put down the radio and turn back to Mikhail. “Let’s get going before someone comes in here and finds us.”

“Do you have any weapons?”

You shake your head, pondering whether you should have picked up some of the discarded assault rifles from the test chamber. “Afraid not. Unless you count this guy,” you say, patting Nemesis’ chest.

Mikhail nods. “Fair enough. I will just have to let you cover for me.”

Nemesis carefully stands up with you still in his arms, trying his best not to cause you too much discomfort, and the three of you exit the room. Thankfully the hallway is now clear of the guards from earlier, and you continue your trek to the top of the facility. You may not be burning this place to the ground anytime soon, but you’re at least filled with a newfound energy. You’re going to escape, or you’re going to die trying. Capture is no longer an option; you won’t give Umbrella that satisfaction.


	13. Confrontation

Mikhail clears his throat as the three of you make your way through the halls of the facility. “You know, I never thought I would be grateful to run into this beast again.” He has already witnessed Nemesis dispatching several guards, so it makes sense that he would be somewhat appreciative. Still, his words bother you.

“He’s not…” You trail off, thinking better of saying anything. It's not that important.

“Not a beast?” Mikhail finishes anyway.

You frown. “Y-yeah.”

“Then what would you call it?” Mikhail asks.

“ _Him_. What would I call _him_. And _his_ name is Nemesis.”

Mikhail hums curiously. “I see. My apologies.” You all continue in silence until more footsteps sound from the next hallway, forcing you to slip into another room. Closing the door behind you to wait for the guards to pass, Mikhail turns to ask you another question. “You understand that it – my apologies, _he_ – is a B.O.W., yes?”

You nod. “Yes, of course.”

“And you understand what that means?”

“Bio-organic weapon,” you state, wondering where he is going with this.

He nods and hums again. “So you would logically understand that he is not…”

You wait for him to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t. “Not what?”

Mikhail purses his lips together. “He’s not some plaything.”

“W-what is that supposed to mean?” you stammer.

“My apologies if I am incorrect in my assumptions, but you appeared to be quite physical with him back in the other room, and that points to some strange conclusions.”

Of course. You just had to sustain an entire conversation with this man while being coddled on Nemesis’ lap, didn’t you? At least he didn’t walk in on you when you were topless. “With all due respect, I don’t think my personal convictions should be any of your concern.”

Mikhail frowns. “A B.O.W. is not made to think. It is not made to feel. It is made to kill, and that is that. He is not human like us. Do not let him fool you into believing otherwise.”

You frown back at him. “Nemesis is different.”

“Are you sure?”

Before you can answer, Mikhail opens the door and peeks outside. He waves a hand to signal that the coast is clear before slipping back out into the hall, and Nemesis follows with you in tow. Mikhail’s question rings in your mind. _Are you sure?_ Of course you are. Nemesis must be able to think and feel considering everything that has transpired between the two of you. You can see the emotion in his eye, hear it in his voice. Mikhail is a U.B.C.S., of course he wouldn’t understand. Nemesis is a B.O.W., but he’s different. Right?

After sneaking past several more groups of guards and ascending several flights of stairs in tense silence, the three of you eventually emerge through an open doorway into a massive room, the top of which is lined by a balcony with metal railing. To your relief, the ceiling of the room is a huge domed window through which you can see the inky black sky.

“Well isn’t that sky a sight for sore eyes?” Mikhail murmurs.

You don’t know very much about Mikhail. What you do know is that he has been victimized by Umbrella just as you have and that he gave you the benefit of the doubt when you and Nemesis first showed up at the subway with Jill. He seems to truly care about his men and just strikes you as a genuine guy, even if he worked for Umbrella, even if he is wary of your interactions with Nemesis. You bet he has an interesting life story. You wish you could have gotten to know him better, perhaps even shown him that Nemesis isn’t so bad.

A single gunshot resounds throughout the room, and Mikhail instantly drops dead to the floor.

“Mikhail!” you shout as Nemesis tenses around you defensively. You notice a bullet hole in Mikhail’s forehead, blood already forming a huge puddle on the tile. A cough sounds from above you, and Nemesis whips around to face the source. There, standing up on the balcony with the offending gun, is Dr. Richards. The remainder of his severed arm appears to have been bandaged to stop the bleeding. Nemesis snarls in frustrated rage; the balcony is out of reach, and the overhang prevents him from simply climbing the wall to get to it.

“Hello again, (y/n).” Dr. Richards taunts emotionlessly. “You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was to convince my supervisors to let me out of the medical wing to personally take control of your little rampage. Sure, it only took a few hours, but evidently that was still too long. Just look at all the collateral damage you’ve caused in the meantime. If you had just stayed in the testing chamber and let my men get everything back under control, maybe we would have heightened the quality of your accommodations. We may have even kept you with your mate. But no, you thought you’d try making a grand escape, and now dear Mr. Viktor is dead because of your selfishness.”

You want to scream profanities at the doctor for daring to place the guilt of Mikhail’s death on you, but you withhold your rage. Shouting will just drain your energy and accomplish nothing. You take a deep breath before looking at Nemesis. “Let’s just get out of here, he’s not worth our time.” Nemesis grumbles in protest, clearly unwilling to leave without finding some way to get up to the balcony and rip off the rest of the doctor’s limbs.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you two go that easily?” Dr. Richards asks. “I didn’t dedicate so many years of my life to this Project just for you to run away with it. And now you’ve turned it into the most fascinating project I’ve ever had the opportunity to work on. You could change the future of bioweapons production, be a part of something so much bigger than yourselves. Also, you owe me an arm.”

“Fuck off,” you hiss.

Dr. Richards hums impatiently. “Alright, leave then. I clearly can’t stop you.”

You narrow your eyes at the doctor. He was right, there’s no way he would just let you walk out of here. You scan the room and note that there are three doors total, the one you came through and two others. There are probably reinforcements beyond each exit, but you know Nemesis will take care of them just as easily as he has taken care of everyone else so far. Why would someone as intelligent as Richards be so confident in a method guaranteed to fail? You don’t trust this at all. Still, you can’t just stand around in this room doing nothing.

“Let’s just go,” you say. Nemesis growls and throws one last glare at Dr. Richards before turning toward one of the exits, finally accepting that he cannot get to his prey.

The door flies open, but not because of Nemesis. A man – no, a _creature_ – enters the room; it is at least eight feet tall and clad in leather. It is strikingly similar to Nemesis aside from its face, which is close to human aside from the gray coloration and wrinkled texture. Nemesis takes a step back and growls in warning while clutching you closer.

“We have plenty of methods for subduing unruly subjects,” Dr. Richards declares. “Meet the Tyrant T-103. Your mate there is derived from the same model. It just lacks that little brain parasite.”

To your shock, Nemesis seems wary of fighting this new adversary, perhaps because he is restricted to only fighting with one arm, or perhaps because it is too equal of a match. You don’t even have to say anything for Nemesis to back toward the second exit and escape that way. You should have expected that this door would also open to reveal a second Tyrant of equal stature. Nemesis quickly backtracks toward the door through which you entered the room to find another way forward, only to realize that a third Tyrant is blocking the final escape route. Nemesis growls threateningly as he backs away toward the center of the room, all three Tyrants advancing on him.

“In theory, the Nemesis should be able to overpower a standard Tyrant, especially without a power limiter,” Dr. Richards narrates as you are surrounded. “Three against one sounds much more promising. Now, let’s make this a little more interesting. I would like to get some usable data out of this, not to mention you two need to learn some discipline.” Dr. Richards turns to the Tyrants. “I want two of you to restrain the Nemesis T-type… and force it to watch the third fuck the girl unconscious.”

“What the fuck!?” you exclaim. “You’re fucking sick!”

Dr. Richards simply watches you with his unwavering expression. “Maybe next time you’ll remember your place as Umbrella property. Just think of how much easier this would have been if you had cooperated from the start.”

The Tyrants continue to get closer, and Nemesis decides that enough is enough. With a threatening roar, he launches a tentacle from his hand toward one of the Tyrants. It simply catches the tentacle in its fist like it is nothing and yanks hard, pulling Nemesis off balance. You topple out of his arm and roll across the floor, clutching your gunshot wound in pain.

Nemesis’ enraged roars fill the room, and you watch helplessly as the first Tyrant attempts to wrestle him into submission. The second Tyrant runs in for a cheap shot while Nemesis is distracted attacking the first, sucker punching him and sending him reeling into the first Tyrant’s grasp. At the same time, the third Tyrant approaches you. You hiss and scramble onto your hands and knees in an attempt to crawl away, but you aren’t fast enough. The Tyrant reaches down and grabs you around the neck with its massive hand before holding you up in the air above it.

“No! Let me go!” you scream, barely able to breathe through its tight grasp on your neck. You claw at its hand and kick your feet despite how painful it is to move, struggling to break free. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!” The Tyrant doesn’t move. It simply watches you struggle until you wear yourself out and your kicking and clawing ceases from exhaustion, which doesn’t take long considering how much blood you have lost already.

The Tyrant reaches toward you with its other hand and clutches the front of your hospital gown in a tight fist before ripping the cheap fabric off your body, leaving you completely naked and exposed aside from the bandages around your abdomen. It drops the gown to the ground and reaches to move aside its own leather coat, revealing its pulsating cock. You try to kick and scream some more, but you can’t muster the strength to do so. You resort to whimpering pathetically and jamming your thighs together instead.

You turn your head to the side to see that the other two Tyrants are struggling, albeit succeeding, in holding Nemesis back, forcing him to watch this unfold. He struggles violently against his captors, growling fiercely. Although his arms are locked behind his back, a tentacle still flails and pierces one of the Tyrant’s bodies repeatedly, but the Tyrant pays no mind. Nemesis stops when he notices you staring at him. He must see the desperation and fear in your eyes; you’ve never seen him look at you with such helpless sorrow. This only lasts for a moment, though, as he immediately continues his struggle, determined to rescue you. Hot tears stream down your face at the sight.

“Nemesis…” you choke out. You thought you were so close to freedom, but now you question if that was even correct. You recall the moment Nemesis listened to your pleas to spare Jill. You had felt so powerful in that moment, but now you realize that you’re exactly what Nicholai called you back at the subway station, a puny girl. You have no power. And to your horror, Nemesis doesn’t have any power here, either. Umbrella made him, for crying out loud. They know everything about how he fights, everything about his weaknesses. He may have given them a few surprises, like taking a mate and overloading his power limiter, but Umbrella still got the upper hand all the same.

You can’t bring yourself to accept your fate. You’re going to be here forever, aren’t you? They’re going to torture you and experiment on you and breed you, and they’ll lock up Nemesis like some kind of animal, and neither of you will ever see daylight again. Nobody will know what happened to you. This is how it ends, and there’s nothing you can do. A single tear breaks through, and you close your eyes and brace for the worst.

_BOOM!_

Your eyes shoot open at the sound of a huge explosion. When it clears, one of the Tyrants holding Nemesis has been blasted apart into nothing but bloody chunks. Yanking one of his arms free, Nemesis pivots around on one foot and nails the other Tyrant in the face with a fist. The Tyrant stumbles backward in surprise, freeing Nemesis’ other hand. The Tyrant quickly recovers and attempts to punch Nemesis back, only for its fist to be caught in Nemesis’ hand. You hear a sickening crunch as the Tyrant’s hand is crushed in Nemesis’ grasp.

Nemesis then yanks the Tyrant forward and wraps his other hand around its neck. The Tyrant retaliates by wrapping its remaining hand around Nemesis’ neck, and the two battle to asphyxiate each other. With an extra hand, tentacles, and a tougher physical form, Nemesis has the clear advantage. A tentacle extends from the hand Nemesis is using to choke the Tyrant, skewering the Tyrant’s tree trunk of a neck. A second tentacle pierces through the Tyrant’s chest, remaining inside for a while before bursting out the other side wrapped around the Tyrant’s still-beating heart. The tentacle constricts around the pulsing organ until it bursts like a water balloon, sending dark viral blood splattering in all directions. The Tyrant’s grip on Nemesis’ neck loosens slightly, and Nemesis takes advantage of this moment of weakness to throw the Tyrant to the ground. It never gets back up.

You look around frantically for the source of the explosion that gave Nemesis the upper hand, and your eyes fall on a figure standing in the doorway holding a massive rocket launcher. “Jill!” you practically scream with relief. She gives you a quick smile.

Meanwhile, Nemesis body slams the Tyrant holding you by the neck. They go tumbling onto the ground, releasing you in the process. You quickly fall to your knees, still too weak to stand up. The two B.O.W.s struggle violently, throwing punches at each other that would surely kill a normal human in one blow. While they are distracted, Jill runs over and kneels next to you. She sets down the rocket launcher to tend to you.

“(Y/n)! Are you hurt?”

“Well, I’ve been shot in the stomach, and a Tyrant just tried to rape me,” you manage to say while wiping away tears. Then it dawns upon you that you are completely naked. You rush your arms up to cover your bare chest with another sob, not wanting Jill to see your immodesty. Jill reaches over and grabs the remains of your hospital gown. She tears off a strip of the fabric at the bottom of the gown, then drapes the gown over your shoulders and ties it shut with the strip around your waist to form a makeshift robe. “Here, this should keep you covered up until we can get you some real clothes.”

“Th-thanks.” Your face turns red as you choke back another sob. “W-where the hell did you get a rocket launcher?”

“You’d be surprised how many useful things you can find with a keycard and some desperation,” Jill replies.

You turn your attention back to the nearby brawl. The Tyrant takes a swing at Nemesis and strikes him in the jaw, sending him keeling backwards. Nemesis sends out a tentacle in response, but the Tyrant grabs it and tries to pull Nemesis off balance just as the other Tyrant had done before. Nemesis is prepared this time, however, and he quickly shifts into position to land a solid hook against the side of the Tyrant’s face. With the Tyrant caught off guard, Nemesis once again launches a tentacle that successfully wraps around the Tyrant’s neck. With no exertion, Nemesis lifts the massive Tyrant into the air and slams it down onto the floor, shattering all the tiles underneath it.

With an infuriated roar, Nemesis lifts his fist up into the air and sends it pummeling down, ripping through the Tyrant’s abdomen like punching a hole through paper. With a mindless ferocity unlike any you have ever seen, Nemesis begins to grab at the Tyrant’s guts and wrench them out violently. The Tyrant struggles silently underneath him but is ultimately unable to get away, forced to helplessly endure as Nemesis covers the surrounding floor with blood and intestines and various other entrails until it stops moving.

Satisfied with his work, Nemesis turns his attention back to you, and Jill scoots slightly out of the way as he approaches. You reach your arms out to him instinctively, aching for his comforting embrace. He reciprocates the gesture and pulls you against him protectively. You’re already so covered in blood from the last few hours, you don’t really care that he just finished disemboweling something with his bare hands. You just want to feel his touch and his warmth, to be reassured that he is there for you. You quickly lose control and start to weep again.

“This is really starting to try my patience.” You are suddenly reminded that Dr. Richards has been standing on the balcony this entire time, watching everything, and you turn to glare up at him with pure hatred through your tears. “Do you know how much funding it takes to produce just one of those things? Once we’ve detained you again, I may actually have some trouble coming up with a punishment to top this one.”

“You son of a bitch!” you scream through your sobs, completely overtaken by rage. “Get down here so I can rip _your_ guts out!”

Dr. Richards smirks. “Look at that, your mate’s temperament is rubbing off on you. Your psychology is just fascinating, (y/n). I can’t wait to explore it further. Until then, I suppose you and your mate get to wander around the facility just a little longer. Enjoy yourselves while it lasts. You still belong to me, and I will see to it that you _learn that_.” He begins to back toward the balcony door.

“Going somewhere?”

Dr. Richards spins around. He is standing face to face with Carlos, who has entered the balcony from behind. “Ah, Mr. Oliveira, yes? I-“

Carlos doesn’t give Dr. Richards a chance to finish. Instead, Carlos charges forward and tackles the doctor, sending both men flying over the edge of the metal railing and into the room below. Dr. Richards lands on his back with a thud, whereas Carlos performs a skillful roll to absorb the fall.

“Carlos!” you exclaim. “Where did you come from?”

“You didn’t think Jill was gonna come save you without some backup, did you?” Carlos asks as he gets to his feet.

Nemesis releases you from his embrace and begins to approach Dr. Richards, eye locked on his prey. The doctor attempts to sit up with a pained groan. He strains to reach for his dropped gun, only for a leather boot to come stomping down, destroying the weapon under its heel. Dr. Richards’ eyes drift upward warily to find Nemesis glaring down at him with resentment.

“You’re fooling yourself,” he says weakly. “I helped make you, and I can assure you that this female will never fulfill you. Someday you _will_ hurt her. You _will_ hurt her, and maybe then you’ll once again come to terms with the purpose you were made for.”

Nemesis simply lifts his boot and crushes Dr. Richards’ outstretched hand under his heel, causing the doctor to let out an agonized scream. Nemesis swiftly lifts his foot again and brings it back down onto Dr. Richards’ arm, snapping it effortlessly. Dr. Richards continues to shout in pain as Nemesis circles him like a vulture circling fresh roadkill. As he makes his way around the man writhing on the floor, he methodically snaps each remaining limb with a powerful stomp. Once Dr. Richards is completely incapacitated, Nemesis places his foot on the doctor’s chest. Nemesis gradually applies more and more pressure until his prey’s chest collapses with a sickening crunch. His cries are cut off as he begins to cough up blood, likely from the broken ribs puncturing his lungs.

While Nemesis waits for Dr. Richards to bleed out, you turn your attention back to Carlos, who has approached the body of Mikhail with a solemn complexion. “I’m so sorry,” you say. “Richards shot him as soon as we entered the room. There was nothing we could have done.”

Carlos nods. “At least he found out the truth about Umbrella before he died. He deserved that much, at least.” After another moment of silence, he turns away and approaches you and Jill. “And at least everyone else is okay.”

“What about Tyrell?” you ask.

“Did somebody call?” You turn to see Tyrell enter through the same door Jill came through carrying two assault rifles. He tosses one of the assault rifles to Jill, then turns to examine the bodies littering the room. “Looks like I missed all the fun.”

Nemesis turns away from Dr. Richards, who you assume must now be sufficiently dead, and approaches you again. He leans down and lifts you gently into his arms, then looks at the others expectantly, apparently ready to keep moving and get out of here. It takes all your strength to not start crying again.

“I think that’s our cue to get going again,” Jill says, and Carlos nods in agreement. Jill retrieves the rocket launcher and looks up at Nemesis expectantly. “I’ve already got a gun. You want to do the honors of blowing shit up?” Nemesis shifts your weight onto one arm and takes the rocket launcher in the other with an almost sadistic eagerness. You realize how much you have missed him carrying around his old flamethrower. Seeing him with a huge weapon is incredibly badass and maybe even a little sexy.

The four of you exit the room, Tyrell and Carlos in the lead, Jill following, and Nemesis carrying you and the rocket launcher close behind. You bury your face against Nemesis’ chest, hoping that maybe if you stop looking at the world surrounding you for a little while, the next thing you open your eyes to will be freedom.


	14. Burn

“So, his name is Nemesis, huh?” Carlos asks over his shoulder as the five of you continue down the hall.

“Yep,” you say.

Carlos clears his throat awkwardly. “And you're mates?"

Of course everyone had to hear Dr. Richards' parting remarks about Nemesis being your mate, didn't they? "Yeah...?"

Carlos hesitates. "So, uh, is it true? That you and him... you know..."

Your face turns bright red as you try to splutter out a coherent response. “That is none of your god damned business!”

“Oh god, it’s true,” Carlos says, slightly horrified. “But… but you’re so tiny, and he’s so… How does that not, I don’t know, kill you?”

“Carlos!” Jill yells and elbows him in the side. She turns to you. “Don’t look so embarrassed, (y/n). If it helps lessen the blow, I already had a feeling.”

“W-what!?” you blurt out. “How?”

“It started when you said you didn’t want to evacuate because of him. Your nervousness and complete lack of self-preservation make your infatuation kind of obvious.”

“More like _extremely_ obvious,” Tyrell adds. “You should have seen the two of them at the RPD. Or heard them, rather.” You groan and hide your face in Nemesis’ coat again.

Carlos gawks at Tyrell. “Wait, that’s why she had the limp? And you knew and didn’t tell me? You bastard.”

Tyrell shrugs and grins. “Hey, she didn’t want me telling anyone. I respect that.”

Carlos shakes his head. “Man, I guess love really is blind. I mean, look at him. Am I missing something? What is she seeing? This is so fucking weird.”

“I’m literally right here,” you say, your voice muffled by the coat, and Carlos shuts up.

“Live and let live, man,” Tyrell replies.

You realize that Tyrell is right. Why should you care about what anyone thinks of your relationship, fucked up or not? Nemesis certainly doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks, or at least he doesn’t show it. He makes you feel safe and loved and calm and secure and happy, a combination of feelings that you’ve never truly gotten out of any previous relationship. You don’t care if the future is uncertain; you’ll find a way to make this work.

The five of you reach a large freight elevator, and Jill pauses. “This looks like the elevator we came in through. This is our way out.”

Tyrell hums thoughtfully “We didn’t run into much opposition on the way up here, so there’s definitely something amiss. They’ll probably be waiting for us at the top.

Jill nods. “In that case, stealth won’t be an option. We’ll have to fight our way through.”

“We’ll be too outnumbered to fight effectively,” Carlos says. “I say we make a break for it and let the big guy blow up anything that gets in the way.”

“They’ll try to single us out,” Tyrell adds. “No matter what happens, we have to stay as a group. Either we get away together or we don’t get away at all.”

“Alright then. Get to the helicopter as fast as possible, but don’t get separated. Sounds like a plan,” Jill says. She turns to you. “You ready for this?”

“No way.”

She smiles to reassure you, but you can tell she’s nervous too. “It’ll be fine. We’re gonna get out of here.”

The five of you step into the freight elevator and the door slides shut behind you. As the elevator comes to life with a small jolt, your heart starts to race. You are so close to freedom you can almost taste it, but you know it isn’t going to come easy. In just seconds that door is going to reopen, and you have no idea what kind of army awaits you on the other side. You are so tired of being shot at. You are so tired of running. You just want to be free.

The ascending elevator comes to a halt, and you hold your breath as the door slides open with a faint ding. This is immediately followed by an onslaught of gunfire.

“Go! Go!” Tyrell yells as he bursts out of the elevator compartment, shooting blindly into the night as he runs. The rest of you follow close behind him. You suppose you are at a disadvantage not being able to see who is shooting at you, but that probably means they can’t see you very well either, which is probably why nobody has gotten fatally shot yet. You hear Jill shout in pain as a bullet grazes her shoulder, but she quickly recovers and continues to shoot into the darkness.

A rocket fires from the rocket launcher and explodes in the distance, illuminating the area with a flash of fiery light and sending a few bodies flying from the force of the explosion. You try to make out as much as you can in that split second of visibility; there are Umbrella operatives literally everywhere, and you have no idea how all of you are going to make it out of here alive. More importantly, however, you see the silhouettes of several grounded helicopters up ahead. There is hope.

You are deafened by the unending maelstrom of gunshots and rocket explosions. You desperately want to cover your ears, but your hands are currently occupied clinging to Nemesis’ leather coat for dear life. Certainly you’ll have hearing loss after this is all over.

A bullet manages to hit Tyrell square in the chest, and he trips and falls from the shock of the impact. Carlos stops to help him up, but Tyrell waves him on, clutching at his bleeding torso. “Keep going, dammit!”

“No way, man,” Carlos replies as he lifts Tyrell up over his shoulders. “Either we get away together or we don’t get away at all, remember?”

Another rocket explosion brings the helicopters back into view, and you can see that Jill has already reached the closest one. She throws open the door and jumps inside the back. “This way! Hurry!” she shouts to the rest of you. Then she screams and ducks for cover when a bullet hits the helicopter windshield, shattering the glass.

Carlos and Tyrell reach the helicopter next. “We gotta get out of here fast before they completely destroy this thing,” Carlos says as he hands Tyrell up to Jill. “We can’t let them shoot something critical.”

“I’d say they’ve already shot something critical,” Tyrell quips weakly.

Carlos jumps into the cockpit and starts manipulating the control panel. Meanwhile, you and Nemesis have made it to the helicopter. Nemesis jumps into the back and hands you over to Jill before turning around and shooting a few more rockets. Carlos finally gets the helicopter started, and you feel the machine rumble as the engine roars to life and the blades accelerate. “Here we go,” Carlos says, and the helicopter slowly lifts off the ground.

Nemesis fires one last rocket for good measure; you have no idea what he aimed for, perhaps some kind of fuel tank, but it results in an ear-splitting explosion that rocks the helicopter. The entire area is lit up bright orange as a massive fireball engulfs everything in the immediate vicinity, and the resulting wave of scalding heat takes out anything outside of that vicinity. Nemesis quickly ducks back inside the helicopter and closes the door in case the heatwave manages to reach this far out. Black smoke billows into the atmosphere, and even after the initial explosion clears, you can see through the window that the facility has been set ablaze. Looks like you might manage to burn this place to the ground after all.

“Are you proud of yourself?” you say. Nemesis makes an odd sound that sounds like genuine laughter, and it makes your heart melt.

Now that you are separated from the warzone outside, you can finally attempt to think clearly. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your entire body is shaking. You feel like you are on the verge of hyperventilating. You close your eyes and try to calm your racing thoughts. All five of you made it to the helicopter. All five of you are alive. You’re finally going to escape from this hell, and you will never, ever have to deal with Umbrella again.

Tyrell lets out a pained wheeze. “Shit, I… I think they shot something important.” Your eyes drift to his chest, and sure enough, there is blood pouring from a gunshot wound. Umbrella logically stripped everyone of their tactical gear upon arrival, so he took that bullet through nothing but a single layer of fabric. You try to convince yourself that it might not have hit anything important and he’s just saying that because he’s in a lot of pain. You now know what it feels like to get shot, after all, so it makes sense. Tyrell has perhaps been the most understanding of everybody about your less-than-normal situation; you aren’t prepared for Umbrella to take him too.

“Just hang in there,” Carlos says from the cockpit. “I didn’t carry you the rest of the way just for you to die.”

Suddenly, the helicopter stops its ascent with a violent jolt, and your stomach drops. Of course it couldn’t be simple.

“What was that!?” Jill yells.

“We’re caught on something!” Carlos says as he checks over the control panel.

The helicopter gives another sudden jolt. You manage to crawl over to the passenger door and peer through the window to see what the problem is, and you let out a scream. A hideous humanoid creature has grabbed onto the tail boom of the helicopter with a massive clawed hand. You recognize it immediately by the limp remains of severed intestines hanging from the half-healed hole in its abdomen. Upon making eye contact with you through the window, it gives the helicopter another violent tug in an attempt to pull it down from the sky.

“It’s the Tyrant!” you yell back to the others. “It’s got us by the tail!”

“That thing is still alive!?” Jill asks with exasperation.

“I can’t keep us steady much longer!” Carlos says. “If it doesn’t let go, we’re gonna crash!”

Nemesis adjusts the rocket launcher on his shoulder and prepares to make a move to attack, but Tyrell holds out a hand to stop him. “No way, you can’t shoot it with that. The explosion will be way too close; it’ll damage the helicopter.”

“What else are we supposed to do?” you ask. “Regular bullets won’t do anything!”

Tyrell sighs and pushes you away from the door. “I’ll take care of it.” Then he opens the door, bombarding the inside of the helicopter with a gust of hot wind and the sound of spinning rotors.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Jill exclaims.

“I’m gonna jump on it.”

“What!? You can’t do that!”

“I’ve got a god damned bullet in my chest, Jill. I’m not gonna make it anyway.”

“Just calm down, T,” Carlos says. “We can figure this out.”

Tyrell just shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve already got this figured out. Carlos, Jill, you keep fighting for the truth, alright? (Y/n), Nemesis, you keep fighting for, well, you know what.” He gives you a mischievous wink.

Jill moves forward to grab Tyrell’s arm. “Tyrell, don’t you dare-“ But she is too late.

“Time to let go, fuckface!” Tyrell yells as he leaps from the helicopter and lands on the Tyrant’s shoulders. Not wasting a second, he takes his hands and jams his thumbs into the creature’s eye sockets. Distracted and blinded by the unexpected attack, the Tyrant releases the tail boom from its mutated claws. Finally free, Carlos desperately attempts to restore balance to the vehicle and resume its ascent.

“Tyrell!” you scream, but there’s nothing you can do. You watch helplessly as the Tyrant rips off the man clinging to its face and swiftly impales him with one of its claws, then throws him to the ground. It lifts a foot and-

Jill pulls you away and closes the door before you can watch any more. You simply sit there and stare blankly at the door, unable to process the fact that Tyrell just sacrificed himself so that the rest of you could escape. You can’t even bring yourself to cry. You just sit there in shocked silence. Nemesis lays down the rocket launcher and approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You lean back into his embrace, knowing that he senses your shock. You want to close your eyes, but every time you try you just see Tyrell’s death replaying in your head.

“Dammit, T,” Carlos mutters. “You always did want to be the hero. I guess you got what you wanted, in the end.”

You feel the helicopter begin to rise once again. Everyone is deathly silent. Even Jill, who hardly knew Tyrell at all, seems to be emotionally burdened by his sacrifice. You all should be feeling victorious about your successful escape. Instead you just feel empty. You stare out the window and watch as the light of the fire engulfing the Umbrella facility starts to move further and further away, along with your dead friend. Unfortunately, you don’t have much time to mourn.

_WOOSH!_

Something loudly speeds past the helicopter. “Shit!” Carlos shouts.

“What is it this time?” Jill asks.

“A missile!” Carlos says. “We’re being followed!” He takes evasive action by jerking the helicopter to the right just as another missile flies past, barely missing.

“Should’ve known they wouldn’t let us go that easily,” Jill mutters. You don’t think this has been easy at all, considering that Tyrell is now dead, but you understand what she was trying to say. Nemesis lets go of you, much to your disdain, and retrieves the rocket launcher. He approaches the door and throws it back open so that he can lean out and aim the weapon at the pursuing aircrafts.

Your heart skips a beat. “Nemesis!” you scream and reach to pull him back inside, but Jill holds you back. You’re too weak to put up much of a fight. “Let me go! He’s gonna fall!” you tell her angrily, hot tears streaming down your face, but she just shakes her head.

“He’s our only chance to escape, (y/n).”

“I don’t care!” you yell through your tears. “If escaping means losing him then I’d rather die!”

Nemesis fires a rocket from the rocket launcher, and you hear a satisfying explosion in the distance followed shortly by a huge splash. Are you flying over the ocean?

“Nice!” Carlos says. “Radar says we got two more on our tail! Take ‘em out!” Nemesis takes careful aim and fires a second rocket, but the lack of an explosion suggests that he missed. “Missile incoming! Hold on!” Carlos suddenly yells before evading sharply to the left. You watch with horror as Nemesis stumbles precariously off balance, just barely grabbing onto the frame of the helicopter to stop himself from falling out.

“Keep it steady, Carlos!” you yell. “You’re gonna make him fall!”

“And then what, get hit? I have to evade, (y/n)!” Nemesis takes a moment to steady himself before taking the next shot. Thankfully, this one hits its target, resulting in another explosion and another splash. “One more!” Carlos yells. Nemesis takes aim one last time, a look of pure concentration on his face, and fires. Only this time, no rocket comes out. He observes the rocket launcher with a frustrated growl.

“Carlos! We’re out of ammo!” Jill shouts. Coming to the same realization, Nemesis throws the now-useless weapon to the floor of the helicopter.

“Shit!” Carlos evades to the right again as another missile soars past, and Nemesis grabs onto the helicopter frame for balance.

“Can’t you just keep dodging until they run out of ammo too?” you ask.

“I can only keep dodging for so long, we’re gonna get hit eventually!”

“We can’t go down like this,” Jill mutters. “Not after coming this far.”

You look up at Nemesis, who is still standing in the door of the helicopter. He is turned slightly to the side such that you can see his face, staring out into the darkness with that same look of concentration. You wonder what he is thinking about. Suddenly, his eye lights up like he was just struck by an incredible idea. You watch with confusion as he grabs the helicopter with one hand and leans outside, other hand outstretched as far as he can reach.

“What is he doing?” Jill asks, and realization hits you.

“Carlos!” you shout. “When the next missile fires, dodge to the left!”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me!”

Carlos shakes his head in confusion. “Alright, whatever you say.”

Sure enough, the pursuing helicopter fires another missile, and Carlos evades to the left. As you had anticipated, the missile barely misses the helicopter as it is now aimed too far to the right. Then, just as the missile soars past the helicopter, Nemesis shoots a tentacle from his outstretched hand and grabs the missile right out of the air. With skillful aim, he flings the tentacle and sends the missile flying back in the direction from whence it came. You listen with bated breath.

Silence.

_BOOM!_

_SPLASH!_

Silence.

“Holy shit.” Jill deadpans.

Nemesis retracts the tentacle and leans back into the helicopter, closing the door behind him before taking a seat. You rush over to him and wrap your arms around him tightly. “Holy shit is right! I can’t believe you just did that!”

“What just happened?” Carlos asks.

“Oh Carlos, you should have seen it!” you exclaim proudly. You’d bounce around the back of the helicopter in excitement if you weren’t mortally wounded. “He caught the missile! He caught the missile just like that time you told me about, and then he threw it right back! It was so badass!”

“Crazy son of a bitch,” Carlos says.

“How did you know to have us dodge to the left so he could even do that?” Jill asks.

You shrug. “Lover’s intuition."

You settle yourself on Nemesis’ lap and turn to look back out the helicopter window. The Umbrella facility is so far away now that you can barely make out the burning flames. You think back to that moment you sat behind the counter in the antique shop, convinced that you were going to be eaten alive by zombies. Even though it has only been a few weeks at most since then, you can’t help but feel like a changed person. For one thing, you lost a finger and a fair amount a blood, and your mental health is definitely going down the tubes from all this trauma. But you’ve also gained so much more; friends, love, resilience.

The air is heavy and bittersweet. You've escaped, and the Umbrella facility burns in your wake. At the same time, Mikhail and Tyrell are gone forever. An uncomfortable thought emerges that maybe it's your fault that they are dead. If you hadn't taken Nemesis back to the subway station and revealed your situation to Nicholai, Jill and the U.B.C.S. team would never have gotten involved with your situation. Carlos and Tyrell may have gotten away with Bard's vaccine. Jill and Mikhail may have been released at Fox Park Station. You aren't sure where that would have put you and Nemesis, but surely, you would have figured something out. You know this is just survivor's guilt trying to take hold of you, but it's hard not to give in to the self-blame. You quickly try to focus on something else.

Your gaze shifts from the fiery lights of the facility to the natural lights of the stars in the sky. You must be far away from civilization; you’ve never been able to see the night sky so clearly, especially not from the city. “The sky is so beautiful out here,” you say in an absentminded attempt to distract yourself from your thoughts.

“Stars.”

You smile at the deep sound of Nemesis’ odd attempt to say something sentimental. You lean against him and take one of his rough hands in both of yours. You feel him relax beneath you as you run your fingers along his weathered skin. You never could have imagined that someone so monstrous, let alone someone created solely to kill, could also be so gentle. You close your eyes and breathe a deep sigh, letting the comfort of his presence overwhelm you. Maybe you - both of you - are finally free.


	15. Greener Pastures

Your heart nearly stops when you find out that today is Tuesday, October 6, 1998. You all spent a whole week of your lives locked away in the Umbrella facility, a whole week of isolation and fear and pain. Carlos is quick to determine that you are located just off the northern Pacific coast, much to your surprise. You had just assumed you were still in Raccoon City this whole time.

The issue of home brings about some serious concerns. You doubt you can return to your apartment in Raccoon City, considering all the destruction and zombies running amok. Under relatively normal circumstances, you could always go stay with family or friends or stay in a cheap motel until you could find a more permanent place of residence. Unfortunately, you are not under relatively normal circumstances. You just so happen to have formed an inseparable bond with a bioweapon, and you don’t think any family, friends, or motels (no matter how cheap) will be too eager to have him around. There is also the issue of the bullet still lodged in your stomach. You need to get to a hospital to have it surgically removed and make sure nothing was critically damaged. Where is he supposed to go in the meantime? The waiting room? You doubt that would end well.

“Hey Jill?” you speak up.

“Hm?”

“What exactly is the plan now?”

Jill contemplates for a moment before answering. “Well, first thing’s first, we need to get you to a hospital. Once you’re back in good hands, I suppose Carlos and I will be going our own separate ways. I’ve obviously got a lot of work to do to counteract Umbrella’s bioweapons research.”

You frown. “What about Nemesis?” Jill goes quiet, and you can tell from the look on her face that she hadn’t really considered him.

“I’d say your best bet is to go off-grid,” Carlos says. “Somewhere no one will find you.”

“That’s easier said than done,” you argue. “I’ll still have to buy land, and where will we stay until that happens?”

“What are your thoughts on tent camping?” Carlos asks.

“In the middle of October? We are not living in a tent,” you object. You doubt Nemesis would fit in a tent anyway. Your group goes silent, everyone trying to think of where to go from here. You told yourself you would make this work, but now that you can't even figure out where to get started, you're starting to doubt your misguided confidence.

“I think I know someplace that could work temporarily,” Jill says, breaking the silence. “My cousin owns a summer cabin in Oregon. Considering that no one is using it right now, I’m sure he’d be willing to rent it out if I put in a good word.”

“I wouldn’t want to get your extended family involved in my personal mess,” you say, although the idea is tempting.

Jill puts her hand on your knee. “Listen, (y/n). If it wasn’t for you, I would have been burnt to a crisp back in Raccoon City. If it wasn’t for Nemesis, we wouldn’t have escaped Umbrella. I owe it to you. To both of you. Let me help you for once.”

“But you’ve already done so much,” you say. “If you hadn’t shown up with the rocket launcher when you did, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Well, that means you saved me twice and I saved you once, so I still owe you one,” Jill says.

“But-“

“For god’s sake, (y/n), haven’t you ever heard that beggars can’t be choosers?” Carlos exclaims. “No wonder you’re still alive after all this; you’re too stubborn to die!”

You sigh and look back and forth between Carlos and Jill. “Alright, okay. We’ll take the cabin. But only until I get back on my feet and figure out something else.”

Jill nods. “Good. We can drop off Nemesis at the cabin and then give you a lift to the hospital.”

“Um, that sounds great and all, but he screamed for a week straight the last time we got separated,” you say.

“Damn. Talk about separation anxiety,” Carlos says.

“He’s intelligent, he understands you. Just explain to him that he can’t go to the hospital with you,” Jill says.

“I'll try,” you say reluctantly. Truthfully you just don't want to leave him behind, even though you know your survival depends on it.

Once everything is agreed upon, Jill gives Carlos the name of the nearest municipality to the cabin, and he approximates some destination coordinates. The trip lasts about an hour, during which very few words are spoken. The lack of conversation is perfectly fine by you; you are all exhausted anyway, and you are struggling just to stay conscious at this point. The resurgence of adrenaline you experienced during the escape has faded, and you are once again reminded of just how bad your condition is.

You eventually reach what appears to be a small town next to some forested mountains, and Jill begins to provide guidance based on what she can remember. You fly along a small road leading a few miles up into the mountains, and sure enough, it leads to a quaint wooden cabin surrounded by a small field. Carlos brings the helicopter down, the field making a perfect landing spot.

“Ladies and gentlemen and bioweapons, we have arrived,” Carlos declares. Jill opens the helicopter door and jumps outside. You make a sudden movement to jump out of the helicopter after her, only to keel over in pain

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?” Jill asks.

“I’m fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “I just forgot how much it hurts to move.”

Jill holds out a hand. “Here, I’ll help you down. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Thanks.” You take her hand and she carefully helps you out of the helicopter, and to your amazement, you manage to stand up on your own. The feeling of the grass between your bare toes is almost overwhelming. It is now that you realize how long it has been since you’ve seen grass. You close your eyes for a moment just to take in the smell of mid-autumn and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. You forgot how much you missed this feeling while living in the city.

Nemesis is next to exit the helicopter, grabbing the empty rocket launcher on the way. He seems almost dazed by the unfamiliar surroundings, and it strikes you that he has known nothing but scientific laboratories and sprawling cityscapes his whole life. Never has he seen the natural world like this. You wish you could stay here for a little while just to experience this with him, but you know you need to get to the hospital soon.

“I’ll wait right here for you,” Carlos calls from the cockpit.

You, Jill, and Nemesis make your way up to the front of the cabin, rather slowly due to your injuries. Jill has to help you up the stairs to the front porch. Once there, Jill reaches for the front door. It is, of course, locked. She leans down to check under the doormat for a spare key, and much to your surprise, she actually finds one.

“Shouldn’t we call your cousin to make sure this is okay?” you say.

“Better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Jill says with a small smirk as she unlocks the door with a click and returns the key to the bottom of the mat.

The door swings open with a soft creak, revealing a fully furnished living room barely illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the windows. You step cautiously inside, followed by Nemesis. The wooden floorboards creak quietly under your feet. “We’ll only be a minute,” you say.

“Take your time. I’ll wait here,” Jill says from the doorway, and you nod back at her.

You slowly make your way over to the sofa and take a seat on one end, then gesture for Nemesis to join you. He sets the rocket launcher against the wall before he obliges and sits on the opposite end, shifting the cushions dramatically under his weight. You hope that all the blood and guts covering him are dry by now; you don’t want to have to explain why there are blood stains all over the sofa to Jill’s unsuspecting cousin.

You take a deep breath, unsure of what to say. You decide to start by taking hold of his hand again, since that seems to get him to relax. He stares down at you sadly; he could clearly hear you and Jill in the helicopter. He already knows what you are going to say. “Okay, this is going to be really hard for you… really hard for both of us, actually. I know that you want to be with me, and that you want to protect me. But I have to go away for a little while, and you won’t be able to come with me this time. I need to go to the hospital so they can take this bullet out of my stomach and make sure everything else is okay. Jill and Carlos are going to take me there, and they’ll make sure I’m in good hands. I don’t know how long I’ll have to stay there to recover, but I need you to wait here in the cabin while I’m gone.” You sniffle and realize that you’ve started crying.

“It’s just… I remember that horrible sound you made when they took you away from me… how you literally screamed and writhed for a week. You don’t deserve to be treated like that just for existing, but they treated you like that anyway and it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that they forced you to be something that you don't have to be. You’re not a weapon, you’re not an experiment, you’re not a mindless killer. You're so much more than that. You’re so human.” He removes his hand from yours and lifts it to your face to wipe away your tears, and you lean into his touch.

“I promise I’ll come back. Every moment that I’m alone with my thoughts in that hospital, I’ll be thinking about coming back to you. As soon as the hospital lets me go, I’ll come straight back here. And then we’ll finally be free, from Umbrella, from everything. You just have to sit right here and wait, and I promise I’ll come back… because I love you.” Something sparks in Nemesis’ eye that you’ve never seen before, and he leans forward and pulls you into an embrace.

“Love.”

You wrap your arms tightly around him in return, barely holding back a sob at the sound of that single reciprocated word. You're unsure he even understands the implications of that word, but even the possibility that he understands the concept, and because of you no less, is enough to make all the suffering you’ve been through worth it. You’ve never been so emotionally open with anybody before. You’ve never felt this kind of connection. You want to stay here with him so much, and the fact that you can’t, even if just for a little while, hurts you deeply.

You cherish the comfort of the embrace for a few more moments before withdrawing your arms. He holds onto you a little longer, seemingly hesitant to let you go, but he eventually yields. Gathering up all your strength, you stand from the sofa and give him a sad smile. Before you can stop yourself, you lean toward him to kiss his face just underneath his eye, and he purrs quietly.

“I’ll see you soon.” With that, you force yourself to turn and walk back across the living room to the front door where Jill is waiting. You look back one last time to see Nemesis staring after you longingly. You give him a little wave before Jill puts her arm around your shoulder and guides you outside, closing the door behind you. She carefully helps you back down the stairs, and once at the bottom, you sniff and wipe away a few more tears on your forearm.

“You gonna be okay?” Jill asks gently.

“Yeah,” you say with a curt nod and another sniff.

“You know, at first I didn’t know what to think of you two,” Jill says. “I thought it might just be some kind of weird power thing. But it’s become increasingly obvious that you really care about him. He’s found himself in quite an interesting position for a B.O.W.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Well, considering that he should have been dead ten times over and none of it even left a scratch, I’d say he’ll do just fine.”

“I mean, emotionally. Do you think he’ll be emotionally okay?”

“Honestly, I’m more worried about you than him,” Jill says. “He seemed to take it relatively well. You, on the other hand, are a wreck.” You let out a strange sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

The two of you reach the helicopter, and Jill helps you inside before getting in after you. “All set?” Carlos asks.

“Yes,” Jill says.

“No,” you say at the same time.

Carlos just chuckles. “Sounds about right. Now let’s get you to the hospital.”

You try to get comfortable as the helicopter starts back up, but the cheap helicopter seats make it impossible to do so. You much preferred the comfort of sitting on Nemesis’ lap. You stare out the window as the helicopter rises into the air and starts toward its destination. As the little cabin on the mountain grows smaller and smaller, you feel as though you are leaving a part of yourself behind with it.

The trip to the nearest city is a short one. You hear Carlos’ voice as he makes radio contact with the hospital to confirm permission to land on the helipad and explains your condition, but you are too zoned out to pay much attention to what he says. You struggle to wrap your mind around the fact that this is all almost over. Everything that has happened will haunt you for the rest of your life, but it will all just be a memory. You never could have imagined that it would physically end. Then again, you suppose this will never truly end until Umbrella falls, and even after that, their legacy will linger like an ugly scar on the face of human history.

You snap back to reality as the helicopter touches down on the helipad. As Carlos shuts down the engine and the blades start to decelerate, you begin to feel an increased level of anxiety. When you get into the hospital, there will be people in sterile white clothes who take you into sterile white rooms and dress you in a sterile white gown, and they’ll run tests and put IVs in you and make you stay in bed for days on end, and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to handle all that without it triggering some kind of post-traumatic stress response. Sure, these people will actually want to help you. Sure, you’ll know what time and day it is. Sure, you won’t be handcuffed to the bed. But deep down you know you won’t ever be able to shake away that underlying sense of dread.

Once the helicopter has run cold, some hospital staff emerge from the building. Jill assists you in getting out of the helicopter, and to your surprise, Carlos also jumps out of the cockpit and joins the two of you on the landing zone.

“Well, (y/n), this is it,” Carlos says.

“This is what?” you ask cluelessly.

“This is where we part ways.”

“Oh.” For some reason, it had never occurred to you that you would eventually have to say goodbye to Carlos and Jill. You’ve only known them for a week, but you’ve been through so much together in that short span of time. You’ve helped each other to hell and back. Being with them has started to feel natural, as if they’re lifelong friends, and the thought that they are about to leave and that you’ll probably never see them again makes you feel incredibly empty.

Jill must sense the sadness in your voice, because she places a hand on your shoulder and smiles. “You’re really strong, (y/n). It might get difficult at times, but I know you’ll be okay out there.”

“Jill’s right,” Carlos adds. “If you can handle Nemesis, you can handle anything life throws at you. We’ll be rooting for you.”

“And I’m sure we can keep in touch,” Jill says. “I’ll have my cousin pass along a number you can reach me at once I get settled somewhere, just in case you’re ever in need of some S.T.A.R.S. assistance.”

“And who knows? Maybe you’ll hear from me again too,” Carlos says. “Like I said, you’re fucking weird, and I gotta keep up with that.”

You smile and shake your head, barely holding back tears. “You guys are way too nice. If I had to get stuck in the zombie apocalypse with anybody, I’m glad it was you two.”

“Alright, alright, let’s get out of here before she makes me get emotional,” Carlos says to Jill. He turns and climbs back into the cockpit. Jill turns to board the helicopter as well.

“Oh, wait! Jill!” you quickly say, and she turns back to you.

“Yeah?”

You lower your voice slightly. “Back at the lab, after everything they did to me and Nemesis, I promised myself that we would burn Umbrella to the ground. I guess we burned one place down, but there’s more to Umbrella than just one building. I think we’re gonna retire from our Umbrella-hunting days, all things considered, but I know you aren’t gonna give up yet. So whenever you’re out there burning them to the ground, can you do us a favor and think of us? So we can be there in spirit, you know?”

Jill smiles. “I’ll be thinking of you every step of the way. And when I’m finally standing on the mountain of Umbrella’s ashes, you better believe you’ll both be standing right there with me.”

With one last look, Jill turns and jumps back into the helicopter. The hospital staff begin directing you toward the building, and you reluctantly turn away to follow. After everyone has exited the landing zone, you can hear the helicopter engine start back up. You turn back to watch as the helicopter lifts off the helipad, and you can barely make out Jill and Carlos waving to you as they depart. You wave back, tears in your eyes, and watch as the helicopter travels further and further into the distance until it is nothing but a little black speck on the horizon.


	16. Nemesis

At first, the doctors don’t know what to make of you. You’re covered in the scars of second-degree burns, your nose shows evidence of a recent fracture, you’re missing several fingernails and a finger, you’ve been shot in the stomach, you’re covered from head to toe in dried blood, you’re dressed in nothing but the tattered rags of a ripped gown, and you are absolutely terrified of any doctor who gets too close to you unannounced. They try to get you to explain how you ended up like this, but you are reluctant to share anything, and they eventually give up and cart you off to the operating table to have the bullet removed and check for internal injuries.

The surgery goes quickly and without complications, and you soon find yourself waking up in a hospital bed with a patched-up abdomen. Much to your relief, there are no handcuffs, and the room has a window that lets you see outside. At first it hurts to look out into the city; you haven’t seen sunlight for a week and your eyes aren’t used to it. Eventually you adjust, however, and you find yourself staring out the window every waking hour of the day. You keep hoping that maybe you’ll be able to see the mountains in the distance if you look hard enough, but you can’t see past the skyline.

You know the doctors are just trying to make you feel better, but you wish they would stop telling you over and over how incredibly resilient you are. You were very lucky; firstly, that you only got shot by the sidearm and not the assault rifle, and secondly, that the bullet didn’t damage any vital organs or major blood vessels. Still, the doctors are amazed that you were able to walk into the hospital on your own two feet, albeit with some trouble. Apparently, you have a ridiculously high pain tolerance. It sure didn’t feel like it when you were having your fingernails pulled out, but you did manage to keep quiet through worse, and you aren’t one to turn down a compliment that makes you feel like a total badass.

The doctors continue to periodically ask you about what happened to you. At first you consider telling them about being captured by Umbrella and just leaving out all the bits about Nemesis. However, you realize that if they put you down on record as a witness to Umbrella’s crimes, you might have to testify in court should a court case ever come to fruition, forcing you to lie under oath to cover up Nemesis’ existence. You would rather just not deal with that at all, so you decide to keep your mouth shut. You have sufficient health insurance and you are an otherwise compliant patient, so the doctors don’t really care in the end.

When the doctors first tell you that you’ll have to stay in the hospital for nine days or longer for monitoring, your heart sinks. You had hoped that you would be allowed to leave after only a couple days. You suppose that was an unrealistic dream, considering the shape you are in. When the doctors ask about your disappointment at the length of your stay, you simply tell them that someone is waiting for you at home. They ask if you would like to make a phone call. You politely decline.

It isn’t long before you learn about the fate of Raccoon City. The United States government ultimately decided to destroy it with a missile strike on the night of October 1st. The news leaves you feeling a miasma of conflicting emotions. On one hand, you are relieved that the T-virus outbreak has finally been contained. On the other hand, Raccoon City will always hold a special place in your heart, and it hurts to think that you will never again be able to see it as the lively, bustling city it deserved to be.

Your first night in the hospital is hell. You keep waking up in the Umbrella facility, only to scream yourself awake for real and realize it was just a dream. The doctors rush in when they hear your screams and interrogate you about what’s the matter, but you insist it was just a nightmare and they leave. Then you fall back asleep and have the same dream, and then you wake up screaming again. The doctors continue to check on you each time, and you can tell they are getting irritated. By the end of the night, you’ve probably screamed yourself awake ten times, and the doctors have just started ignoring you. You’re sure that’s breaking some protocol, but you aren’t about to complain. Having them doting over you ten times a night over something they can’t help you with is getting on your nerves.

In stark contrast, your first shower in the hospital is heavenly. It takes what feels like an eternity to scrub all the dried blood and guts out of your hair. You watch with a mixture of horror and wonder as the water runs dark red and disappears down the drain. As you stand in the stream of warm water, you look over your body. You hardly recognize yourself. The scarring from the burns has left large patches of your skin rough and discolored. You’ve lost a significant amount of weight, and you were already tiny to start with, so now you just look like a walking skeleton. You try to force away any feelings of self-consciousness, but it proves difficult.

A few days into your stay, it occurs to you that your family probably thinks you are dead. They haven’t heard from you in the week since the outbreak, after all, so they probably assume you either got infected, got eaten by zombies, or got blown up in the missile strike. You feel a little guilty that it took you so long to even think of them. You also feel a little guilty that you almost considered not contacting them at all. If you just let them keep thinking you are dead, you won’t have to worry about them prying. In the end, however, you decide that you care about them too much to hurt them like that, and you request to make a phone call.

Your parents are relieved to hear your voice. Your mother even starts crying. They did, indeed, think you were dead. They do get a little aggravated when you refuse to talk about where you’ve been, but they ease up when you tell them you’re currently in the hospital recovering from a long laundry list of injuries. They offer to give you a place to stay until you get back on your feet, but you kindly inform them that you already have a place to stay courtesy of a friend, and they seem to be okay with that for now. Still, they insist on visiting you once everything settles, and you just go along with it to make them happy. You’ll worry about the consequences later.

A few more nights into your stay, your nightmares start to diversify. Sometimes you dream about Nemesis falling out of the helicopter and into the dark ocean below during the escape. Sometimes you dream about Tyrell’s death. Sometimes you dream about Jill and Carlos getting killed by Umbrella in a wide variety of horrific scenarios. The worst dream, without a doubt, is the one where you and Nemesis get attacked by the three Tyrants on Dr. Richards’ command, only this time Jill doesn’t show up with the rocket launcher to save you. That dream is different in that you don’t wake up screaming; you wake up sobbing.

After the longest nine days of your life, the doctors finally dismiss you from the hospital with a fresh change of donated clothes, a prescription for some painkillers and a medication for post-traumatic stress disorder, firm instructions to take it easy for a while, and a phone number for a psychotherapist that you’ll probably never actually bother to contact. The first thing you do with your newfound freedom is walk to the bank located conveniently down the street and withdraw enough money from your savings account to last you a while. You silently thank your past self for memorizing all your account numbers, considering that all your banking info in your apartment is now nothing more than ashen waste.

A seed of paranoia plants itself in the back of your mind. Umbrella may not know _where_ you are, but they know _who_ you are. The hospital will have records of your stay and the bank will have records of your withdrawal. Certainly, it isn't beyond Umbrella's capabilities to access this information. You suppose you could close your bank account and refrain from further interaction with any record-keeping operations. But even then, if you are going to be living a few miles up a mountain, you're going to need a car, which means you are going to need to replace your driver's license, which means you're going to need to put an address on record. Even just going into stores to purchase necessities will put your face on security footage. You feel as though you have been dropped into circumstances where it is impossible to win. In order to survive, you need to be untraceable, but you also need to interact with society, which requires you to be traceable. A subtle dread threatens to well up into a full panic attack, but you push it down. You are sleep deprived and traumatized. You are in no condition to be worrying about this right now. No, you are going to go home, take some time to rest, and just stop thinking for a moment. After everything you've been through, you think you deserve at least that much.

Cash envelope in tow, you call for a taxi to take you back to the little town by the mountains. The drive is relatively uneventful. The taxi driver attempts to strike up some small talk a few times, but eventually gives up when all he can get out of you are vague comments and dismissive shoulder shrugs. You lean back and watch with tired eyes as the skyline disappears over the horizon behind you. You feel like you are leaving behind so much more than just a random city that happened to have a hospital. You are leaving behind your past. You are leaving behind your fear. You are leaving behind your normalcy. You know that life will never be the same after this. You will never be able to look at mundane objects like pliers and umbrellas without thinking of all the horrors you’ve endured. You will never be able to look at humanity without thinking of all the evil and violence and greed that soaks it to its very core. You will cherish every moment that you feel safe and happy and loved, knowing how easily it can all be stripped away in an instant. Paranoia will follow you in everyplace you go and everything you do.

As the taxi turns onto the road leading up into the mountains, you begin to feel slightly giddy. After nine days surrounded by strangers, you are desperate to see a familiar face. You intensely hope that Nemesis fared well during your absence. You long to be engulfed in his warm embrace, to fulfill your promise that you would return to him. You pray that his presence will help ease your stress and anxiety, and maybe even ease your nightmares. You haven’t had a decent night of sleep in over two weeks now, and it’s really starting to catch up to you. You’ve avoided looking in any mirrors so that you don’t have to see the dark circles inevitably forming under your eyes. The thought of curling up in his arms and dozing off brings you immense comfort.

Finally, the cabin comes into view. The taxi pulls up in front of the house, and you quietly thank the driver with payment and a tip. You wait until he pulls away from the house and disappears down the road before turning toward the cabin and approaching the front door. You manage to make your way up the front porch steps without any help, a testament to your rapid recovery. After unlocking the door with the key under the mat, you reach out and push the door open with a familiar creak and step inside.

To your relief, Nemesis is sitting on the sofa, and he turns to stare in the direction of the door. Your heart flutters at how his face lights up at the sight of you. You don’t even bother to say anything; you rush over to the sofa as quickly as your tired feet can carry you and jump onto him, eyes already leaking tears of respite. You cry into his chest as he holds you close, and you lose yourself in the moment. You suffered so much for this moment, a moment where you can just relax in each other's presence and not worry about anything else. A long time passes as you both sit there in each other’s arms, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours. Time doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re both here together, and nobody will be able to take this away from you ever again.

You think back to the first time you realized you felt this way. It was back in the lobby of the police station. That was when you had realized just how gentle he can be. That was when you had realized just how alive he made you feel. You recall that it was your first time listening to his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, running your hands over the smooth leather of his coat. You also recall wondering what it would be like to sit there without the coat in the way. You are admittedly enamored by the thought of the impossible musculature underneath his worn, rugged skin, a thought that inspires a rising heat in your body. Two weeks ago these feelings elicited fear and confusion, but now you have no qualms with succumbing to your desires. It doesn't matter what he is, what he looks like, what he is capable of; you love him, and you want him. You run your hand along his chest and absentmindedly tug at the leather covering, your body knowing exactly what you want before your mind can catch up.

He catches on quickly; he takes your hand in his and removes it from his chest to place it gently in your lap, giving him room to maneuver. You watch as he slowly removes the leather from his body, first his gloves, then his boots, then his coat, and you shift your weight as is necessary for him to remove everything completely. Eventually his clothing is sitting in a pile on the floor, leaving him completely exposed to you and your desires. You place both hands against his bare chest and simply hold them there, taking in the warm feeling of his skin. After a moment, you begin to move your fingers along his body, tracing the furrows of his pronounced muscles. He wraps his arms back around you and pulls you closer, but he leaves room for you to continue your thorough exploration of his body. Seeing him like this makes you feel so warm and peaceful down to your very core.

You lean forward and plant a kiss on the center of his chest. The feeling of his rough skin against your smooth lips is odd, but you enjoy it. You gradually make your way across his torso, kissing every exposed inch of skin that you can reach. At the same time, you reach your arms around him and massage at his back, and you feel his muscles relax underneath your touch. You absentmindedly press your hips against his only to find that your kissing and caressing has aroused him to the point of erection, and suddenly all you can think about is how much you want him inside of you again. Only this time, you don’t want him to dominate you. You want him to make love to you; sweet, passionate, gentle love.

You remove your arms from around him and lean back. Maintaining eye contact, you first kick off your shoes. You carefully take your shirt and pull it over your head, then reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra. They quickly join the leather clothing on the floor, leaving your scarred torso uncovered and vulnerable. An immediate feeling of self-consciousness overwhelms your being, and you break eye contact as your gaze falls downward in embarrassment. You never thought of yourself as attractive, but you never thought of yourself as unattractive either. Now your body is permanently scarred and mutilated. You feel damaged and broken. How could anyone ever want you like this?

You feel Nemesis’ hands begin to traverse your body, undeterred by your imperfections. He starts at your shoulders, then moves down to caress your breasts. He runs his thumbs over your scars attentively, as if mentally mapping every inch of your body. You slowly bring your eyes back up to his to find him staring down at you with a burning adoration, and you realize that he doesn’t care about your scars at all. To him, they are just another part of you. He doesn’t see you as damaged and broken. He sees you for the kindness and love you have shown him. You feel a little silly thinking that he would judge you so superficially, especially considering his own appearance. Not that you have a problem with his appearance. It's definitely grown on you.

You push yourself up onto your knees and grab onto his shoulders for support so that you can kiss his face. At first you aren’t sure where to start, considering that his face is rather mangled. You eventually settle for kissing him on the cheek just below his eye. You move to kiss along his face toward the scar where his face has been stapled shut, then his other cheek. You gradually move your lips down his jawline to his neck, leaving loving kisses in your wake. You've never wanted someone as much as you want him right now. As if reading your mind, he takes his hands and places them at your waist, fingering at the hem of your pants. You smile into his neck, knowing that he is growing impatient at your teasing. You place your hands over his and guide him to remove your pants and underwear. They slip off easily, and you toss them to the floor.

Both of you sit there, now completely exposed, and gaze at each other. The way he looks at you makes you feel so powerful and important and beautiful. This is the most intimate moment you have shared, and it feels incredible. You press yourself against him and return to kissing at his neck, wanting to feel as much of his body as you can against your bare skin. He runs his hands over your curves, and you hold onto him as if you'll die without his touch. The heat of arousal continues to build within you until you feel like you're going to burn up, and you force yourself to pull away so that you can finally satisfy your growing desire.

You line yourself up and slowly lower yourself onto him, and he places his hands on your hips to guide your descent. You close your eyes and relish in the feeling of him stretching and filling you. It amazes you how something that was once so painful is now so euphoric. You continue to lower yourself until he is entirely sheathed in you, and a faint sound of satisfaction escapes your lips. You forgot how amazing it is to feel so full.

You brace your hands against his chest and begin to move your body, assisted by his strong hands. Your movements are slow and purposeful, allowing you time to savor every inch of him. Still, you are sure to maintain a good enough rhythm to pleasure him as well. He confirms your effectiveness with a low growl that reverberates throughout his chest, a sound that sends a wave of heat through your body. As you continue to move, you give yourself up to the unparalleled pleasure he is bringing you. You start to gasp sweet nothings between your soft moans. “Ah… You feel so wonderful… Nemesis…” Encouraged by your voice, he growls again and moves your tiny body with increased passion, eliciting more of your pleasured moans and senseless words. “Please… I want you…”

He leans down and rests his head against the side of your neck such that you can faintly feel the heat of his breath, erratic with arousal. He gently grazes his teeth against your sensitive skin, and your entire body shudders at the unexpected sensation. Motivated by your reaction, he continues to experiment. You shudder again as you feel his warm tongue lick from your collarbone up to the base of your ear. You turn your head to the side to look at him and move your arms up to drape them over his lowered shoulders. “Nemesis…” you moan into his neck, followed by another soft kiss. “I’m yours…” Your lips brush against his skin as you speak. “I’m yours… And you’re mine…” He growls lovingly in return.

The familiar pressure of climax begins to build deep within you. You are so close, and you crave the sensation of orgasm, but at the same time you don’t want this to ever end. You love seeing Nemesis so impassioned and vulnerable because of you. You love the occasional sounds he makes and how aroused he is by the sounds you make. You love feeling him everywhere on your body, both outside and inside. You love literally everything about him, everything about being with him, everything about making love to him. His movements become more vigorous as he, too, approaches his climax. You know that if you make him come first, it will probably help you come too, so you move your body with greater intensity to help him along.

This seems to be the last push he needs. His fingers dig almost painfully into your hips as he pulls you down onto him as hard as he can, throws his head back, and roars in pure ecstasy. He instantly fills you with his warm seed, sending you into your own state of orgasmic bliss. “Nemesis!” you cry out as you come, unbridled pleasure rippling throughout your entire body. Your grip on him tightens as if you'll lose him if you don't hold on. Once the wave has passed, you collapse weakly against his chest, panting for breath.

Nemesis finishes spilling into you, and after holding you in place for a moment longer, he carefully lifts you by the hips. You feel him slide out of you, leaving you feeling empty aside from the copious amount of cum he pumped into you. He gently sets you back down on his lap and wraps his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him with a possessive growl as he leans back against the sofa. You feel so warm, so safe, as you settle against him. Your eyes begin to grow heavy, but you don’t want to fall asleep just yet. You want to bask in the afterglow for just a little while first.

On the morning of September 28, and every morning before that, you lied to yourself. You woke up in the morning, ate breakfast, took a shower, packed a lunch, and walked to work at the antique shop. As you completed these daily rituals, you told yourself that you were happy. You certainly weren’t sad, so that had to mean you were happy, right? Yet every day you would complete the exact same rituals, and every day you would have to ignore the nagging feeling that you were missing something. Doing the exact same thing every day, failing to culture anything more than superficial relationships, living just to complete a job and pay the bills, you had to have known deep down that it wasn’t really living. It was merely existing, taking up space and time in this vast universe in which you were just a speck.

You think that you now know what that missing feeling was. It was purpose. If you had died on September 28, as all the odds had suggested would happen, you would be missed by your family, at least for a little while. But then they would move on, and then they would die, and your memory would inevitably be lost to the sands of time, swallowed up by the void of human history. Sure, you were a family member, and you were a shopkeeper, and you were a citizen, but where was the deeper purpose to give your life fulfillment and meaning? How were you affecting anyone else’s life in any meaningful way? Surely, had you never existed, the lives of others wouldn’t be all that different.

The last two weeks have changed all that. The last two weeks have given you purpose, the opportunity to be a part of something bigger. You saved a few lives. You took a few more. You changed some as well. Your seemingly insignificant contribution to society may actually be a small cog in the much larger machine that will take down the corporate face of human greed. And now, even after all of that is over, you still find yourself driven by another purpose. There is someone in this world who cares about you more than anything. If it hadn’t been for you, he would have been someone, even something, completely different, perhaps so different that it falls outside your comprehension. If your existence gives another living being the chance to forge an independent path, to foster compassion and love, to be human, then that is a good enough purpose for you.

You focus on the sound of Nemesis’ heartbeat and the feeling of his steady breaths. You can’t imagine where you would be without him, nor can you imagine where he would be without you. You relax completely against him, cherishing the feeling of your bare bodies pressed against each other. You are his purpose. He is your purpose.

“Nemesis...” you whisper. “I love you so much.”

“Love,” he repeats.

Calmed by his voice, you finally close your eyes and start to drift asleep, knowing that the nightmares won’t plague you tonight. In this moment, you understand that this is what it means to be happy. You understand that this is what it means to be loved. You understand that this is what it means to be human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long sappy ramble incoming! Just skip to the final paragraph if you don’t care about my life story and you’re just here for updates about what’s to come.
> 
> SAPPY SHIT STARTS HERE
> 
> I’ve been creating for my whole life, but I only started sharing my work online back in 2011, mostly mediocre drawings of my original characters from my original stories. It never got feedback, but I kept posting anyway because I wanted to create something that people would enjoy, just like I enjoyed the works of so many others. The thing is, I never really felt fulfilled through drawing. I felt fulfilled through writing, both fanfiction and the aforementioned original stories. The problem was that I had this idea in my head that written works were somehow less valuable than visual works such as video games, animations, and comics. So, I never bothered to share any of my written work online. I convinced myself that writing was a worthless hobby, and eventually I stopped writing altogether. I know that sounds silly, but I also started to suffer from clinical depression in 2012, and it made it difficult to keep doing things that I enjoyed.
> 
> Fast forward to April 26, 2020. I’ve missed the deadline for my research thesis and human society is falling apart at the hands of a pandemic. I needed an escape. RE3R had just come out at the beginning of the month, and I was particularly, erm, fond of a certain someone. So, I opened my laptop and began to type, and what I ended up with was Human chapters 1 and 2. Suddenly I was genuinely enjoying a hobby for the first time in literally eight fucking years. I’d never even written smut before. I’d never written a reader insert before. But dammit if I wasn’t having the time of my life, and dammit if I wasn’t going to keep going. I finished the entire thing in just over a week. I intended for it to just be a personal thing. But then May 13 rolled around, and I must have been particularly out of fucks to give or something, because I said, “Fuck it, I’m gonna post it to AO3.” And I didn’t really expect anything to happen after that.
> 
> My first kudos and bookmarks were exciting. But holy shit, the first comment had me reeling. Never before had I ever received direct feedback on anything I had created and shared. And my god, I can’t even describe the happiness that brought to me. I had gone years thinking that there was no value in the one thing I enjoyed doing, and suddenly I was proven so fucking wrong. Right now, I’m in a better place than I have ever been in the last eight years. I have a job I love, I’m living on my own, and I have a hobby that brings enjoyment to others in addition to myself. I know it sounds stupid, but I think writing this super niche fanfic about falling in love with a Resident Evil monster has made me a better and happier person.
> 
> I suppose there are two things I’m trying to say through all this. First, don’t be afraid to do what you love. It isn’t about receiving praise from others or fitting into what society deems as valuable. If something makes you feel fulfilled, and it isn’t hurting you or anybody else, then that’s all the value it needs. Second, I want to thank every single person who left feedback, whether it was a guest kudos or a paragraph-long comment. You helped shape this story, and you helped me finally see value in what I want to do.
> 
> Damn, didn’t mean to wax philosophical about a monster erotica… but if you read this far, then you get a gold star. Er, I mean, gold S.T.A.R.S.
> 
> SAPPY SHIT ENDS HERE
> 
> As I mentioned before, this is not the end; I’m writing a continuation of this. In fact, I already have a lot of stuff written for it because I have no self-restraint and too much free time. It was originally intended to consist solely of standalone chapters filled with domestic fluff and wholesomeness, but I should have known myself better than that. It has now spiraled into a smutty plot-driven nightmare because apparently, I’m a literary sadist (and also I want to explore how this relationship could possibly work because damn, anyone who thinks this is gonna work without some problems is too optimistic for their own good). Also, all the new chapters are going to be about twice as long as the chapters in this one because I’ve clearly lost control of my life. I’m going to post the first chapter literally right after I post this, so… go take a look if you’re interested!
> 
> -RobotWendigo


End file.
